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Chapter Text

Darcy Olsson had an odd knack for getting exactly what she wanted, in most situations.  The extra toppings on her milkshakes that she didn’t want to pay for, but still wanted?  Yep.  An extra bag of snacks falling out of the vending machine when she really had a craving? Yes.  A smoking hot girlfriend who put up with her extremely chaotic self?  Absolutely.  Her absolutely homophobic, idiot parents somehow growing hearts and being accepting, affirming parental units?  Well…it was most situations, right?  That’s why when she found the permission slip for the annual Higgs-Truham summer trip to Paris on the counter, signed by her parents, she didn’t hesitate for a second to grab it and run.  Sometimes it was possible to manifest even something small, when it involved them.  Nevermind that she had worked odd jobs to fund the trip herself.  They despised her so much, simply for being.  For being a lesbian, for being relatively uninterested in school, for being a lesbian who actually dared to be dating a girl while “under their roof,” for dressing “too masculine.”  At this point, there was a running list.  She would take what she could get.  Fortunately, they had already left the house for the day, so she could make her way to school, unassailed by their disdain.  

Her girlfriend, Tara, met her on the way to school.  She knew it was to cheer her up, because without fail, her parents would have enraged her in some way or another.  Today, thankfully, was completely different, so she greeted her girlfriend with a sweet kiss.  Making their way to Harvey Green Grammar School, or Higgs, both of them sighed.  The year was ending rapidly, and while it had been tough, it had also been exciting.  They had found themselves a queer friend group like none other, and weathered fairly well Tara’s coming out.  

Breaking the silence, Darcy turned to her girlfriend, smiling, and said, “Well…it is official.  The permission slip was signed by my dad.”

Tara nearly screamed with happiness.  “What?  How did you do it?” she asked.   “You didn’t forge the signature, did you?  Because that would maybe not be such a good thing, seeing as how the trip is to a foreign country,” she said cautiously.  

Darcy laughed.  Tara had every right to be utterly suspicious, given the antics she normally witnessed.  “No, no. I’m not kidding.  He actually signed it,” Darcy said.  “I don’t know if he just viewed it as an excuse to get me out of the house, or if he didn’t think I had any money to actually pay for it by myself, or what. But he did it.”

Tara laughed. “Maybe you’re having a breakthrough with them?” she asked, half hopeful, yet half knowing it was a farce of a statement. 

Darcy shook her head, replying, “I’m going with one of my reasons, honestly.  Nothing has changed.  Yesterday morning my mom said my beanie was grossly butch, so…”

Just as she was finishing that statement, their friend Elle Argent had walked up to join them.  “Who is bad mouthing your beanie?  That’s your signature look, Darcy,” she said, grinning.  They both turned and hugged their friend. 

Elle was beaming.  “My mom finally said yes to the Paris trip,” she said. 

Elle’s parents were incredibly reserved about her traveling places, mostly due to the constant state of transphobia much of the “tolerant west” was putting out into the world.  Elle had systematically spent weeks convincing them that her friends were going, that she would be safe with them and with her classmates overall, and that preventing her from going would hinder her life experiences, thus preventing her from growing as a person.  Darcy liked to think that her parents were mostly sold on the last part, but she also had to think that it was more that they wanted their daughter to have normalcy in her life after the past few years.  Whenever she thought about Elle’s parents, she wished so deeply that her parents could be just like them and actually show a degree of care or concern for her.  Her thoughts were interrupted immediately by Tara’s squeak-scream of excitement, and her own need to communicate similar news. 

 “Oh my god, you two…we’re going to have so much fun in Paris!  We just need to find one more cool, queer-adjacent person to room with us…then we’ll truly be in Gay Paris,” Darcy said, wiggling her eyebrows.  

Elle guffawed at that statement, and Tara rolled her eyes.  “Sometimes I really wonder how I put up with you,” she said to Darcy.  Darcy just smiled.  

They walked into form, arriving earlier than anticipated.  Darcy ruffled through her school bag, seeing that she brought all of the folders she needed for the day.  More often than not, she forgot something and had to run back home.  She found her pencil case at the bottom of the bag, and shifted things around to make sure nothing loose had fallen out or sunk to the bottom that did not belong there.  Nope, just the pencil case and her folders.  She took out some homework that she had failed to complete last night, and started doing a few of the problems.  French.  “Maybe I should actually focus on this class more, seeing as how I am going there in a few weeks?” she thought to herself.  

Suddenly, she was getting pulled out of her thoughts by Tara.  “Hey, did you bring those markers I asked you to bring for the project we need to finish?” she asked. 

Crap . Darcy had completely forgotten, and immediately she sent herself into panic mode, trying to remember what markers had been requested in the first place. 

Darcy replied, “Oh, which ones did you need again?  Specifically?”  

Tara narrowed her eyes.  “Those fancy, medium tipped ones that you have in 50 different colors,” she said suspiciously.  

She clearly thought, and rightfully so, that Darcy had forgotten completely.  Immediately, Darcy’s mind went straight to those markers.  They were in her bedroom, piled unceremoniously in a bin of their own.  Darcy may be chaotic, and relatively disheveled, but when it came to artistic products, she still enjoyed a degree of organization.   She could see them, very clearly, even some of the labels.  She could envision the size of the markers, the way that the caps were grooved, and how the cap colors coordinated to the color of the marker itself.  She hadn’t touched them for at least two or three days when Tara had asked about them two days ago.  Panicked, Darcy took hold of her bag again, as if to check for something that she knew most definitely was not in there.  Rattling noises . 

Surprised, Darcy unzipped her bag again.  All 50 of the medium-tipped markers were at the bottom of her bag, dumped in there like they had been dumped in the box at home.  Mere minutes ago, her bag had been basically devoid of most school materials, save for the pencil case and folders.  She had checked, and there most certainly was not 50 markers in there.  Dumbfounded, Darcy did her best to play this off as her being absent minded. 

 “Oh.  Yeah.  I must have forgotten that I dumped them all in here last night.  I was so caught up on the fact that my dad actually signed the Paris permission slip, that I didn’t even feel any of them jabbing my back!” she said, laughing.  

Elle gave her a curious look and Tara just laughed.  Everything appeared mostly normal to the both of them.  Darcy’s normally chaotic self would do just as she described and completely forget about packing them away the night before.  This was definitely not normal, though.  Whatever it was, Darcy did not know what to make of it, other than it was just an actualization of this trend in her life where she could get exactly what she wanted or needed. In most situations . The girls continued to chat and banter a bit as more of their peers filtered into the room, and before Ms. Greenwood entered the room to take the register.  As form dragged on a bit longer, Darcy’s mind drifted from the markers to Paris.  All things seemed to drift to Paris. 

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Approximately 250 miles away in Paris, Stéphane Nelson ripped back another espresso shot, the third of the day, and most likely far from the last.  He hastily took a bite of his breakfast croissant, crunching away.  “Excellent lamination,” he thought, looking through his emails.  His consulting kept him abnormally busy throughout the year, preventing him from taking many decent holidays, which unfortunately meant he often missed seeing his favorite son, Nicholas.  He was thinking a lot about his boys recently, but Nicholas especially.  He had no idea what went wrong with David, but Nicholas had a heart of gold.  David seemed to be a never ending slue of witless banter, combined with an extreme tendency to pick people apart, cruelly.  He most certainly knew that neither he nor Sarah had taught him to conduct himself in such a manner.  Nicholas, on the other hand, made an effort to develop a relationship with his mother and deeper relationships with his friends in ways Stéphane could not describe.  Why was his mind pulled to them more and more frequently, as of late?  Dreams.  The past few nights, sleep had not come easily to Stéphane, as his dreams were consumed by dark, ominous thoughts and visions.  Normally, he would not be too concerned by such a thing.  These dreams would come and go, the events unfolding coming to pass, or not.  The past nights though, were different - darker, distinguished, and concerning his son.  Every single iteration of the dream concerned Nicholas, and two unknown individuals, one most definitely a boy with curly locks of hair, the other, obscured from this vision. 

Every time, it started with a vision of bones.  An osteological display, layered, almost artistically.  Dark, swirling clouds, indigo and purple, gaseous and malicious swarming around the osseous material.  And then, dancing.  The bones danced, not some formal dance, but an evil, rapturous dance.  Animated, alive, they danced together, forming a skeletal horde.  In the backdrop, chanting.  Deep, devilish chanting that sent chills up his spine simply from remembering it.  His son and the others, onlooking, ensnared by the darkness until…nothing.  It ended there, with no resolution, no outcome.  That’s often how they all went, regardless of subject matter.  Stéphane never quite understood his dream states.  He always attributed it to his inability to take up a hobby or something that would allow him to offload his work stress.  His good friend Olivier recommended therapy to him, but he never felt like it would be worth the time and effort to resolve anything.  And thus, he bowed his head, took another large bite of his croissant, and plowed back into his work.  Maybe he would respond to his son's texts today, or even call him.  But, knowing himself, probably not. 

Countless feet below Stéphane Nelson, in a world rarely fully explored by the average person, Parisian or not, a cloaked figure marched down a dim pathway in the catacombs, their path unhindered.   In their hand, a pendant and chain swung softly with their movement, the pendant conspicuously missing its main adornment, a sizable jewel set in the middle of three jewels total.  Two smaller, yet nonetheless resplendent emeralds adorned the sides, their traditional green glowing vividly and maliciously in the dim lighting of the underground.  They toyed with the chain, almost playfully, causing the natural swings of it to pitch occasionally.  The character in the cloak hummed, quietly, the eerie sounds wafting through the halls, the bones around them vibrating, gently, as if the humming itself sought to raise the dead.  One more stone, and they would be dancing.  Oh, they’d be dancing.

Chapter Text

Early summer heat swept into Kent, viciously.  Gone were the balmy days of spring, which usually extended a bit longer than late May.  Charlie, infamously cold most of the time, even struggled with the heat wave a bit at first.  Being forced to put aside his knitwear and the plethora of jumpers he had slowly “borrowed” from Nick’s closet was truly an indignant scenario he was not ready to bear.  At one point, he started resorting to giving Nick several pairs of flannels to wash and wear around the house, so that they would smell like him whenever it came time for him to wear them.   Sarah Nelson, all too aware of this scheme, went along with it willingly, even folding a separate pile of “Charlie” clothes and bagging them up for Nick to secretly hand off to him.  While they had come out to their queer friend group that spanned the Higgs-Truham student population, they still hadn’t really come out beyond that, so it was a bit odd to hand off clothing to each other openly.  Harry Greene eventually returned to school, and much to their relief, returned a quieter, humbler person who mostly shut up around either one of them.  How much he knew about what happened, they did not ask, but for the most part, his memory of the past several months apparently was hazy at best.  He could not even remember rugby plays they had started in March and had practiced through April and May.  

It was under these mostly idyllic conditions that exam season started, which meant Charlie absolutely had to get the secret of his relationship with Nick off his chest and come clean to his parents.  Now that Nick had told his mother, he was free to clue in his parents as well. Timing was essential, however.  His father currently had his permission slip for the Higgs-Truham trip to Paris in his hand, pre-signature.  If he told them about Nick right now, that would lead to questions about accommodations, who he was planning on rooming with, who else was going on the trip, and Charlie really did not have the energy to lie by omission this morning.  He knew if he told his parents all of it at once, there would either be a collective doubt as to whether or not he should be alone with his boyfriend in a foreign country or he would get the most uncomfortable, cringe “sex” talk. Those were the options he faced as he zoned out, munching on his toast.   Thankfully, Charlie did not have to ponder these possibilities  much longer, as his dad finally scrolled a signature onto the paper and handed it to him.  He hastily placed the paper in his bag, out of sight and reach from potentially rueful parents.  “Now it’s time,” he thought.  

“Hey, mom and dad,” he paused, his tone cautious and soft.  “How do I phrase this?“ he thought.  For whatever reason, a simple “Nick’s my boyfriend,” did not feel quite right.  

His parents cut him off though.  “Uh…are you trying to come out again, Charlie?  I mean…you did that last autumn.  Started it off the same way,” his dad said.  

“Umm, no.  Not that.  I mean, related though.  I’ve…I've got a…boyfriend,” he said, finally able to vocalize the words.  

Immediately his mother clapped her hands together, legitimately surprised.  “Ouch, thanks for that note of confidence, mom,” Charlie thought.  “Who is he, Charlie? Do we know him?” she asked, excited, yet still genuinely astonished. 

Charlie looked up at his dad’s face.  Julio Spring was genuinely beaming, and for the first time, it struck Charlie as to why.  He had heard the incantation in the glade, the one Charlie had written in Spanish specifically to hide its meaning from Nick.  He must have known exactly who it was about, too.  

Charlie replied to his mom, “Well…actually, yes,  you do know him.  It’s…it’s Nick.  Nick Nelson.”  His father remained smiling, but his mother’s face turned from excitement to shock.  

Blinking a few times, as if considering her phrasing, Jane Spring blurted out, “I didn’t realize Nick was gay!”  

Charlie looked at her, half perplexed, but also half annoyed.  “He’s actually bisexual, mum.  And you can’t really tell who is and isn’t gay by looks alone,” he said. 

 As if that was a magical cue to disagree, his mother replied, “I know, but he’s just so…laddish and a jock,” she said, automatically adding after that, “not that that means sporty men can’t be gay.”  

At this point, Charlie started to mentally exit the conversation.  His mother’s outdated, ignorant thoughts on sexuality never ceased to bubble up at moments like these, despite Charlie’s best efforts to educate her.  His father, on the other hand, had done his due diligence to better understand, and if he did not, he actually asked or remained silent instead of just uttering such vapid remarks.  Thankfully, Tori entered the kitchen, replacing one moment of annoyance with a moment of utter awkwardness.

“I see he told you about Nick.  He did a nice job with that one,” she said, smiling mischievously.  Charlie’s eyes widened.  He did not like what his sister was implying, whatsoever.  “Well, at least you won’t have to worry about not having grandchildren,” she added, smirking almost evilly.

 “Tori!” Charlie yelled, gobsmacked by the immediate implications.

  Not to miss out on the gentle ribbing, his father decided to join in.  “Hmm, yes.  I suppose we’ll have to ban Nick from sleepovers now,” he said, playfully.

“What?!” Charlie shouted, uncertain if his father was joking, or being 100% serious.  

Smiling widely, his father responded, “Oh yeah…we can’t have that.  We can’t have any hanky panky in this house.  Absolutely no hanky panky.”  

Charlie’s face flushed crimson, and he felt like he was about to turn inside out; his utter embarrassment was complete.  Tori shuddered.  

“Please don’t say hanky panky,” she said, feigning absolute disgust.  It was clear that she was amused by her father’s ribbing of Charlie, but not about the subject matter at hand.  

Julio Spring nodded his head again, buttering some toast for himself, repeating to himself, “Yep.  No hanky panky.”  Charlie’s mother had drifted off, as if she was trying to pretend like none of that exchange had happened at all.  

 At that point, Charlie shoved his toast into his mouth, cried, “Have a good day,” and rushed out the door to head off to school, Tori following behind him, laughing outrageously at everything that had just happened.  He had a feeling that the next few months were going to be unbearably awkward around the house.  As he got onto the bus, he felt his phone vibrate.  Checking his messages, he saw that there was one from his father.

Dad:  You know that I was kidding, right?  I really like Nick, and think he’s a good person.  We can talk more about boundaries later.  I know how you feel about him though, so I don’t want you to feel like he isn’t welcome at our house.  

Charlie:  Thanks, dad.  <3

Charlie put his phone away, smiling.  “Maybe it would not be so bad afterall,” he thought.  

Waiting at the bus stop was none other than his boyfriend, Nick.  Saying those words out loud and even thinking them still brought butterflies into his stomach and blush to his face.  They were not yet officially out at school as a couple, so they walked side-by-side, close together, without holding hands, down the walk to the school gate.  Charlie had started filling him in on his evening, despite the fact that they had texted relentlessly the night before, and how his morning had gone.  The topic of the trip to Paris was eventually brought up.  Knowing that it would get an emotional rise out of him, Nick started asking him about the trip in French .  

“Tes parents ont-ils signé ton autorisation écrite?  Es-tu prêt à aller à Paris?" he asked, his eyebrows raised.  

They had just passed the school gates, and Charlie frowned.  “You need to stop that,  Nicholas.  I can’t be collapsing on school grounds from weak knees.  You know how your French speaking influences me,” he said, following with, “and yes, they signed it.  Right before I told them…about us.” 

Nick beamed, his smile and rosy cheeks emitting an indescribable energy.  “Good work, Char,” he said quietly. 

Charlie smiled, too, but then frowned.  “Although…you may be permanently banned from sleepovers at our house now,” he said.

“WHAT?!” Nick yelled back, not expecting that line.

“I got the hanky panky word thrown at me,” Charlie said, continuing as he saw Nick blush furiously, “but my dad said he would talk to me about boundaries later,” he finished.  

Nick, still bright pink, said, “Oh…I mean…it’s not like we were going to do anything…” he trailed off, turning his head.  

Charlie, too, blushed.  That had not even entered his mind yet, but here he was now imagining what that would actually be like with Nick.  Thankfully they were almost at form for registration, which gave him time to refocus his mind on exams.

The next couple hours and days really flashed by, full with exams and revision sessions, many of which were punctuated with Mario Kart and making out, two things that really made up the bread and butter of Charlie’s relationship with Nick.  Still not quite ready to have the boundary conversation with his father, most of their revision happened at Nick’s house.  Sarah Nelson just smiled, hugged Charlie, and made sure they had snacks and tea to fuel their revisioning.  She also never nagged them about their study breaks, which was incredibly kind of her.  Charlie’s mom would be invading the room the moment Mario Kart music was heard, which was incredibly silly, seeing as how it was actually healthy to take study breaks.  Charlie absolutely knew that he crushed his English exam.  It just came naturally to him, like many other school subjects.  He wasn’t too sure about his Biology exam, however, mostly because his last revision session was incredibly punctuated by repeat text-message interruptions from Nick.  At that point in exam season, they had practically seen each other every day for revisions and quick relaxation breaks, but that day they had yet to see each other due to conflicting schedules.  The heatwave had continued into early June, making everything that much more laborious, including the hormone-induced stress of not seeing a significant other. 

Text Messa ge Thread, Charlie and Nick (<3):

Nick: How is your revision going?  

Charlie: It is fine, okay, blergh.  How did your Chemistry exam go?

Nick: Not bad, but not great.  I absolutely need hugs from you, toute suite. Can you come over now?

Charlie:  I’m in an actual revision session, not on study leave.  I also need hugs :( 

Nick:  Be bad, sneak out and come home with me ;)

Charlie:  Sorry, but photosynthesis, energy flow, and I are getting really tight right now. Might like them more than you :P 

Nick:  I’ve got some ideas for things we could do involving energy flow…

Charlie:  I just gasped aloud in revision, and now I have to pretend like I just had some significant realization about course material.   Stopppp.

Those were the moments that kept him level-headed throughout the entire process.  Well, mostly level-headed.  Charlie had noticed more and more that his anxious feelings had definitely multiplied throughout exam season.  Charlie had always had anxiety for as long as he could remember, not about one particular thing, but generally about life.  And honestly, it really just made sense.  How could he not be anxious about his life as a gay student at an all boys grammar school that was essentially a walking case study in the effects of pervasive homophobia?  That anxiety followed him around at home, even, in so many ways.  Nick was even a source of anxiety, especially earlier in their friendship.  That anxiety had evolved, lately, away from the “will we ever be more than friends” type of anxiety into the “what will happen to Nick when we finally let more people know we’re together” type of anxiety.  His mother made him anxious about everything.  Would his grades be up to her standards?  Would his tidiness be up to her standards?  Magic and casting gave him anxiety, too.  What if he did something wrong that hurt himself or others? What if there was a new threat that endangered friends or family?  

Even worse…what would happen if his friends found out?  That last point was something Charlie had lost sleep over a few times in the past few weeks.  Randomly, he would have dreams of him and Nick casting, and then being walked in on by someone.  Unable to explain, the person backs away in terror.  He had the dream so many times over the months that the dream person in question had changed.  At first it was his father or sister, and then upon the realization that they were Casters, too, it began alternating through his friend and acquaintance group.  Isaac, Tao, Elle, Isaac again, and then recently, Tara, Darcy, and even Mrs. Nelson.  One night it had been so bad, his own intense breathing had woken him out of a deep sleep, and only 15 minutes of solid, focused breathing had gotten him back into a calm enough state to even consider trying to fall back asleep.  After experiencing the dream at least a dozen times, Charlie was starting to feel frustrated by its pervasive interruptions, and decided to turn to the Book, to see if there was any guidance involving repetitive dreams. 

After a marathon Latin GCSE study leave session, Charlie forced himself to turn to Caster research as a break.  He was really beginning to think about adding indices to the Book somehow, because the multitude of pages provided a challenge to finding straightforward answers about most things.  Nick was busy doing his own revisions, and he did not want to trouble him to help flip through the Book.  His first few pages were rather fruitless, ranging from various tonics and ointments, all for many different uses.  Some of them looked quite intimidating at best, but their written purposes did not really seem to align with what he was looking for.  He kept searching through the current section, which thematically seemed to be about consumables, and not just in the sense of food and drink, but things like potpourris, ointments, and even incense.  It was under the latter section that he found his first promising lead:  dream incense.  Cautiously optimistic, Charlie began reading the entry below it. 

Dream Incense

2 parts bark of cedar, 2 parts rose petal, 1 part rosemary, 1 part lavender, few drops of jasmine oil.  Charge for conducive dreaming.

Mix well; place charcoal block in censer or thurible, light and let sit before scattering small amounts.  Let smoke lightly before adding anymore.  Do not inhale directly, but meditate from afar as the scents fill your room before bedtime.  Properly extinguish before bed.

Frowning, Charlie immediately decided that was not quite what he was looking for.  Interesting, but he needed to dial things back, not dial them up.  He glanced back at the dream incense recipe, and noticed a few reference pages.  Perhaps giving them a go would be helpful for future endeavors, or even find him some answers.  He flipped to the next section - Prophetic Dreaming.  “No, definitely not.  Not now,” he thought immediately.  The thought of trying to induce prophecy in his dreams for no apparent reason was incredibly gross to him, for some reason.  Dealing with the present was hard enough right now.  He flipped to the next reference page.  Interpreting dreams.  “Hard pass,” Charlie whispered to himself.  Again, not apparently useful for the current situation - the interpretation was not difficult to do on his own.  He was anxious about how to deal with the possibility of one of his friends finding out about magic and what that would do to them and their relationship.  Frustrated, Charlie flipped to the last page incredibly angstily.  Floral Magic .  “Incredibly generic,” he thought, “which means potentially promising.”  He started scanning through the pages, as there were several in the section.  He already had a sense that herbs and flowers meant a lot to magical practice, given what he had read in the Book and how he had used them in the past, but this was really intricate and deep.  Part of the practice involved the arrangement of the flowers themselves into appropriate bouquets or even different shapes, depending on the need.  Like many things magical, charging for intention was also a key step, as was the actual casting.  There were so many different iterations, some of which caused Charlie to blush crimson upon seeing.  Turning to the second-to-last page, one finally caught his eye.  Dream Broome .  He set upon reading it, entranced by its potential. 

Dream Broome

 Gather up stalks of Scotch broom,  rosemary and lavender, and one stemmed rose, thornes intact, preferably white or yellow in color.  Center the rose, and from each side, alternate out with a stalk of rosemary, a stalk of lavender, and a stalk of broom.  Repeat as necessary, but with equal amounts of each on each side of the rose.  The orientations of all floral elements should be the same!  Distal to proximal.  Tie the broome together with a sturdy natural twine that allows for hanging.  Charge the completed broome for protective qualities, against negative dreams and nightmares.  When properly charged, speak over it the incantation, calmly:

In somnīs, pācēm

In hīs flōrēs, tumultum

Charlie wrote down the key ingredients on a notepad, along with a message for his father.  He bookmarked the page with a special tab outside of the normal color code he and Nick had devised earlier in the year.  Under the guise of revision, he had been successfully avoiding the ‘boundaries” talk with his father.  Now it was time for him to leverage that meeting to benefit him, and not just embarrass him.  With the exact quantity listed for his ingredients needed, he wrote out a short note to his father below the list:

Dad, if you can get me the exact quantity of the ingredients listed, no questions asked, I will stop avoiding you and willingly sit down for the “boundaries” talk, for as much time as you need.  Please trust me on this.  

Love, Charlie

As he snuck the note into his dad’s office and placed it in a semi-conspicuous space, he smiled at his own audacity.  It was not a common facet of himself, but more and more he found himself drawing upon it when necessity deemed it proper.  Now, all he had to do was hope that his dad would agree to it and tolerate such a bold move.  Perhaps he was getting the wrong message from his Latin class, or maybe it was just his Latin revision in general, but he most certainly had fortes fortuna adiuvat, or “fortune favors the bold” stuck on repeat in his mind.

Chapter Text

Nick had blushed crimson after sending that text to Charlie.  I’ve got some ideas for things we could do involving energy flow… oh god, so cringe!  If any of his friends had seen that, they would probably send him the “bonk” meme.  Ever since Charlie had brought up his dad mentioning “hanky panky,” a part of his brain seemed determined beyond belief to bring it to the forefront, regardless of the occasion.  It was a losing battle it seemed, until a little comment could escape, hopefully harmless, until the need built up again and the cycle repeated.  Hormones and heat were recipes for things he might later regret.  Perhaps he needed to have a “boundary” discussion with himself, and then Charlie, before Charlie even had that talk with his father.  Ugh.  They had been barely dating a month, it would probably be terrifying to Charlie if he brought up something like that.  He resolved, he would let Charlie start that conversation, when he felt ready.  It was only right, as he was the younger of the two of them.  Just as he was about to find himself lost in deeper deliberation, he heard a familiar voice call his name.  Sai.

Nick turned around to find not only Sai, but also Christian and Otis standing behind him, looks of contrition upon their faces.  Nick sighed.  They had not really affirmed his resolve not to hang out with Harry Greene anymore, which greatly frustrated him.  They had also tried to bully him into visiting Harry in the hospital, and did not even relent even when Nick carefully explained his points as to why he did not owe Harry even that.  Between these two things, he had stopped responding to their texts all together, and only talked to them half-heartedly during rugby practice, on very topical, rugby focused affairs.  They really had fallen short in the friendship department, and maybe part of that was because they did not know that he and Charlie were dating, but a big part of Nick hoped that they would not need to know that information to simply be decent human beings.  

“Can I help you lot?” he asked, his voice tense, filled with an annoyed edge.  

Otis and Christian glanced at Sai, who gulped a bit, anxious to speak.  “Listen, Nick…we get why you’re upset with us.  Can you just give us a moment, and hear us out, please?”  Sai asked, calmly. 

Nick crossed his arms. “Fine,” he said, his tone of voice indicating his desire that they plead their case, carefully. 

Christian led the group’s response to Nick.  “We realize that we should have stepped in sooner at the cinema.  The whole confrontation could have been avoided if we had told Harry to shut up, too.”  

Not letting Nick get any word in, Otis immediately jumped in, “Not only the cinema, either.  The whole of last term and beyond, we should have said something sooner to Harry about it, or at least called him out long ago.  He’s such a prick, no one really deserves to put up with it.”

 Sai finished things off, adding his take, “Especially in regards to Charlie.  He’s so nice to all of us, and legitimately was trying at rugby, and even before that, he deserved none of that.  We promise…we promise that we’ll be better friends! Seriously,” he finished, almost out of breath.  

Nick stood there, pensive.  He was nearly ready to say something, before Christian jumped back into the conversation with more to say. “We honestly do really like Charlie, too, mate!  And we don’t want him to think we’re a prick like Harry!” he said, earnestly.  

Otis nodded.  “We’re on your side, Nick.  We’ve always been here for each other, and we don’t want that to change,” he said. 

Nick’s eyes felt slightly dewy, thinking back on his friendship with the three of them.  It did not always appear that deep, but when he thought more and more about it, they really were there at different pivotal moments of his life, a quiet support group, and that was something to be said.  Nick nodded his head. 

“Okay, I accept your apology,” he said, continuing, “I know you’re not like Harry at all…I’m just glad you want to ditch him.”  They came together for the bro-iest group hug, if it could even be called a hug.  

They began walking as a group, down the road past the school gate.  “Have you seen Harry much, after the hospital?” he asked the three of them. 

Sai responded, “No, not really.  I know we’ve all been busy with revisions and exams.”  Otis and Christian nodded.  

“Same,” Nick said.  

Christian then chimed in, “You know…I really don’t blame you for punching him, either.”  

Nick grinned, twisting his neck toward Christian a bit.  “I mean, I didn’t really want to.  Is that what he was saying put him in the hospital?” he asked. 

Otis chuckled.  “He had no idea why he was there by the end of the second week, like it was so weird.  The first week he just babbled in this state.  None of the doctors knew what was wrong with him,” he said.  

Sai added to that, “And then all of a sudden he was mostly normal.  It was bizarre.”  

“Interesting,” Nick said, trying not to further the conversation on that subject. 

 They kept walking, and then Christian said, “Well, we know you did it for a good reason…you and Charlie are just really good mates.” 

Nick stopped in his tracks, his heart starting to pound a bit in his chest.  Really. Good. Mates . He turned around to say something, and he noticed that Sai was scowling at Christian, darkly.  Like he could punch Christian out of frustration.  Panicking, suddenly Nick’s rational brain hopped in.  “Nick…they know.  Why else would Sai be making that face at him?  Remember the sports shed conversation?  They know…and they still want to be friends with you.  You. Can. Do. This,” it said, cajoling him to say something. 

He must have looked physically ill while thinking this through, because Otis asked, “Hey, are you okay Nick?”  

Nick paused, taking a shallow breath, feeling mildly nauseous.  “If I tell you three something…will you promise not to say a word about it, unless I tell you it is okay to do so?  And I’m being incredibly serious.  Don’t talk about it with each other via text, and only in person if you know for a fact that it is only you three there,” he said. 

Sai, Otis, and Christian looked at each other nervously.  The air around the four of them felt like it had been sucked out by some force, it was so eerily still.  None of them answered immediately, and Nick was about to lose resolve and walk away, when Sai said, “You have my confidence.”  

Otis nodded his head and said, “Mine too.”  

Christian ended with, “and I as well.” 

Nick had them shake hands with him, for further measure, and then beckoned them to the park near the school.  He’d miss a bus home, but figured that if everything went well, then he would walk home after and think about life.  The four of them sat down at a table, and Nick looked around to make sure no one else from school was there. 

Sai, acutely feeling Nick’s nervous energy, said, “Man, you’re starting to make me super anxious.  Like…this is serious, Nick.  What’s going on?” 

Seeing that no one else was nearby, he turned to his friends and said, as calmly as possible, “This has been eating me up for over a month now, but…I’m seeing Charlie.  We’re dating, he and I.  Since late April, unofficially, but it has been official for a few weeks now.”  He took a deep breath in, waiting for their reaction.

Christian, unexpectedly started talking, “Wow…we were really onto something when we had that talk in the sports shed, weren’t we?”  he turned and looked at the other two, smiling.  

Otis and Sai chuckled, with Otis saying, “And here I thought we had the emotional perception skills of a five year old…at least that’s what Emily from Higgs told me.”  

Suddenly, Sai’s face lit up, as if he was in the middle of an epiphany.  “Harry’s birthday party makes all of the sense now,” he said, confidently.  

Nick turned to him, sort of in a shocked state. “Whatever do you mean by that, Sai?”  he asked.  

Christian and Otis looked at Sai, confused.  Sai smiled, “You were hanging out with Charlie all night long, practically.  You did not even dance with a single Higgs girl when you were with us, you just awkwardly bobbed around them.  After you told Harry off, we found you upstairs, seemingly alone .  I would bet money on it that you were with Charlie,” he said, triumphantly.  

Nick buried his face in his hands, laughing.  “You caught me, Sai.  Red-lipped,” he said, laughing.  They all laughed. 

 Christian, unsure in his question, asked, “Does this mean you’re…gay?” 

Nick smiled.  “No, I’ve mulled that over a lot, but I am without a doubt bisexual,” he replied, before continuing, “Like, I know I liked Tara years ago…in fact, we’ve since hung out and talked about this stuff, actually.  And I know that there are male and female movie stars and singers that I find…well…hot.  So, bisexuality is where I’m at.”  

Christian nodded, smiling.  Sai added, “Not that it matters. You’re our mate, no matter what.“   

Otis, seemingly extra reflective, added, “God, that just adds even more layers to your fight with Harry.  Fuck…we really left you out to dry.”  He frowned.  

Nick turned to him and said, simply, “You already apologized for that.  Don’t beat yourself up anymore.  Just keep to your word, and everything will be fine.”  They continued to hang out for a few more minutes, talking about random things, rugby, and simply just banter, before they broke up to go study for the day.  

Over the next week, things seemed…normal?  Well, as close to normal as anything could these days.  That gave Nick such a happy feeling.  He had not told Charlie about his lengthy conversation with Sai, Otis, and Christian, beyond the fact that they had made up regarding Harry.  Outside of form and rugby, he and Charlie had not had a lot of time alone, and it was definitely killing him.  On the last practice of the week, he and Charlie shared cone-collection duty, so he decided to take that time to talk with him, as everyone else had headed back to the locker rooms to change. 

“Hey Char, I have to tell you something really important,” he said after a few minutes of collecting cones in relative silence.  

Charlie looked up at him, tense.  “It sounds…serious, Nick,” he said, the anxiety present in his voice.  

Nick nodded, “In a sense, it is.  But in a good way.  I…well, I…came out to Sai, Christian, and Otis,” he said, almost in an excited way.  

Charlie instantly perked up.  “What, really? Oh my god, that’s huge, Nick!”  he said, running from his cones to hug Nick.  “How did they take it?” he asked.  

Nick smiled.  “They actually handled it pretty well.  They definitely suspected something was up between us,” he said.  

“Oh.  You also told them about us?  I guess that explains the random smiles I’ve gotten from them in the corridors…” he said, trailing off.  

They collected the last few cones and headed for the sports shed.  Nick felt a bit concerned.  Charlie sounded like he was not happy about Nick telling them about the relationship, which was quite odd.  Charlie had wanted, more than anything, for their relationship to eventually be known to the outside world, beyond their little queer friendgroup.  

As they entered the shed, Nick asked Charlie, “Was it not okay to tell them about us?” 

Charlie turned to Nick, “No, it’s okay.  I just…didn’t expect it so fast, to be honest.  I’m just so stressed out with revision, exams, and I’m not sleeping super well… that I feel like if some big upheaval happens at school right now, it will just…finish me off,” he said, grimly.  Nick immediately tensed up.  Charlie rarely had shown this side of himself to Nick, and when he did, it made him incredibly worried. 

 “Charlie…when did you start feeling like that?” Nick asked, gently. 

 Charlie immediately countered, “Don’t worry about it, Nick.  It doesn’t matter.  I don’t think you shouldn’t have come out to them.  Just ignore what I said.”  

Nick grabbed his wrist, gently.  “No, don’t say that.  I can’t ignore what you said,'' he said.  He pulled Charlie into a kiss, gentle, yet passionate.  

They broke apart for a moment, and Nick added, “You can tell me about it, Char…” but he was cut off by Charlie, who said, “Yeah, but can you just kiss me more, please?”  Nick smiled, and nodded his head, before moving back in to kiss Charlie.  

All of a sudden, the two of them heard “What on Earth is taking you boys so long to put cones away, Oh !”  They turned quickly to see Coach Singh, staring at them wide-eyed.  Both of them stared back at her, also in shock.  

Quickly she said, “Just hurry it up, okay?  I need to lock up.”  

Nick replied, totally abashed, “Yes, miss.” She turned around back to the field, and the two of them looked at each other mortified, until they laughed. 

 “That was almost guaranteed to happen,” Nick said, chuckling.  

Charlie replied, “Yep,” as he put his palm on his forehead.  

As they were walking into the lockers, crossing the field, Nick turned to Charlie.  “Listen, I know you are worried now about Sai and them…but I made them swear and shake on it that they would not say a word to anyone or even write-slash-message about it at all, unless I told them they could.  I trust them to keep my confidence on this, and they really like you, so just know…it will be okay, I’ll make sure of it,” he said, hopeful that Charlie would take it to heart.  

Charlie squeezed his hand lightly.  “I’m sure this is mostly me overreacting to exam stress,” Charlie said.  

Nick replied, “I wasn’t kidding, what I said earlier…please tell me when you are feeling things.  I want to make sure I can make you feel better, or especially make sure I don’t make you feel worse, Char.”  

Charlie smiled.  “I don’t think you could ever make me feel bad, Nick Nelson,” he said.  They continued walking together, silently, pinkies touching each other.  

Before they headed into the locker room, Charlie turned to Nick again and said, slyly, “You know, if you ever are worried about the lads, I could hex them or something, so if they did say something, we would find out about it.” 

 Nick guffawed at the suggestion.  “Sometimes, you are positively evil,” he said to Charlie.  Charlie just grinned back at him devilishly.  

Coach Singh pulled him out of the changing room before he got much of a chance to start changing. 

 “Nick, please take a seat,” she said.  

Nick could not tell her tone, or what this would be about.  Was she going to go off on him about what had happened earlier?  Her countenance just seemed so incredibly, yet uncomfortably neutral. 

 “In the Fall term, you are going to officially be captain of the rugby team,” she said. 

 Nick felt incredibly surprised.  He felt confident in his rugby skills, but never considered captaincy.  “Really?” he said, the surprise apparent in his tone. 

 Coach Singh nodded her head.  “I don’t think you realize it, but you have natural leadership on and off the field.  The team really rallies around you, naturally.  They respect you, and you bring a positive presence to team morale,” she said.  

Nick replied, “Wow.  Thank you.  I will definitely give it my all.”  

She smiled.  “On that note, I would choose a more secluded place to kiss in the future,” she said.  Nick blushed crimson.  “I’m glad Charlie’s your boyfriend, but I know he has struggled with bullying in the past, and if I find that you’ve done anything to hurt him, we’ll be having some choice words,” she said, tersely.  

Nick spluttered out, “I-I-would never, Coach Singh.  He means the world to me.” 

 She smiled warmly.  “Things have changed a bit since my wife and I met at uni…but if anyone gives you any problems, I’ll sort them out.  Just let me know.  Door’s always open, Captain Nelson,” she said, waving him off to go get changed. 

 “Thanks, Coach,” he said, beaming. 

 Charlie gave him a quizzical look as he left the room.  On the walk out, he told Charlie the news, which led to several students giving him wide-eyed looks as he hooted with joy.  Before they parted at the school gates, Charlie gave him another one of his devilish grins.

 “I’m going to start calling you “my captain” playfully now, I can see it,” he said. 

Nick groaned. As much as he wanted to avoid anything suggestive with him at this point, Charlie sure relished the opportunity to make that as difficult as possible.  Nick blew him a kiss in passing, as they headed in the opposite directions to their respective houses. Nick shuffled into his house, tired from the day.  Something felt a bit off, however.  The normal atmospheric warmth of the house felt clouded by a bit of a chill.  

Cautiously, Nick yelled into the house, “Hey, I’m home!”  

For a moment he heard no response, until he heard a familiar male voice yell back from the kitchen, “Hey Nicky!”  

He shuddered.  David .  Soon after, his mom yelled from upstairs, “Oh Nicky, your brother is back from uni!”  

Walking down the length of the hallway, his brother approached him, a miserably smug look on his face.  Nick had not expected him to return from uni for the summer, as he had a flat there and had taken up some odd jobs throughout the year.  At some point, he did expect to see David on their trip to Menorca, but that wasn’t for many weeks to come, and he did not think it would involve David staying with them in Kent at all.  He was not even done with exam season or officially on summer leave – it was positively too damn early to tolerate his brother.  He shuddered, thinking about all the plans he had with Charlie before the Paris trip, and how his brother’s presence cast a shadow all over them.  He had no intention of coming out to David, not now at least.  David was an absolute knob.  Ten times more knobbish than Harry Greene.  As his future plans dissolved in front of him, he felt a bitter feeling well up in his stomach.  His brother was approaching, as if to shake his hand, but Nick simply crossed his arms and scowled slightly.  

“Hi, David,” he said, as neutrally as possible, before side-stepping his brother and heading upstairs.  He did not have the energy to deal with this.

Messages, Charlie (<3) and Nick:

Nick:  Remember what you told me regarding Christian, Sai, and Otis?  Do you have one of them to help with an obnoxious knob of an older brother?

Charlie: ???

Charlie:  David? What’s he done?

Nick:  Exist, and be home.

Charlie:  Oh gosh…he’s home from uni?  I thought you didn’t expect him until Menorca?

Nick: Exactly.  He’s here, and from what it sounds like…he’s not leaving until after Menorca.

Charlie:  Give me a second, I’ll look something up

Nick:  Oh gosh, you’re actually being serious, aren’t you?

Charlie:  Anything for you <3

Charlie:  Also, I cast an “anti-lie” barrier on my room once, so with some modifications, I’m sure we can do an “anti knobbish older brother” barrier of sorts

Nick: Honestly, I would settle for him to just lose his voice at some point…

Charlie:  Way more workable, boyfriend, way more workable.  Already in the Latin reference book.

Charlie: Silē!  There it is.  Pronounced “sill-ay” kind of like an e accent aigu in French.

Nick:  Latin is wild.  It really makes sense how it became the Romance languages though…

Charlie:  Nicholas, talking about linguistics is practically nerd dirty talk to me. 

Nick >:-D  oh really…so the Classics and Linguistics…I’m taking notes, Charles. 

Charlie:  *intense blushing emoji*   go Cast on your brother and let me know if it works. With conviction and intention, remember :) 

Nick:  You are sometimes such a bad influence on me, sweets.

He did not get much time to dwell on the rest of his thoughts about that conversation, as his brother started barreling into his room.  Without wasting a second, Nick looked ahead, waved out his hand, and whispered, “ Silē ,” just as his brother had entered the room. 

His brother started to speak. “That wasn’t the friendliest of…” he trailed off, rubbing his throat as the rest of his sentence got raspier, hoarser. 

“The friendliest of what, David?”  Nick asked, innocently. 

“Friend,” *rasp* -liest, *rasp* welcom, *rasp*,” he tried again, and Nick cut him off. 

“Oh David, I think it is best that you just don’t speak.  Perhaps that might help?  Must have been talking too much earlier.  Maybe mom can get you some tea for that?”  he said, smirking slightly.  Perhaps this early visitation may be tolerable, after all.

Messages, Charlie (<3) and Nick:

Nick: His voice is incredibly raspy right now, but I think that was enough for him to be easily convinced to shut up.

Charlie:   Oh wow, you actually did it?!

Nick:  Yeah.  Is that bad?  

Charlie:  Proud of you.  If for whatever reason it doesn’t seem to be naturally wearing off, let me know, I’m sure a simple command in Latin would counter it…

Nick:  Char!?  “Naturally wear off??”  You don’t know if it will or will not wear off??  X.X

Charlie:  Don’t panic.  I got rid of the lie barrier.  I’m sure it can be reversed.  Unless you don’t want it to be…

Nick:  That would be a dream…but only through non-magical means.   

Charlie:  Go enjoy your quiet time and get some revisioning done.  I’m going to do that, too.  Just let me know if he’s not recovering his voice at all…I’ll help fix it.  

Nick:  <3 <3 <3  happy revision session

Charlie:  <3 <3 <3

Charles Frances Spring, as sweet and lovely as he was, was also an utter menace , and Nick could not get enough of it, either.  Charlie was his menace.

Chapter Text

Confirming magical theories was starting to become somewhat of a game to Charlie.  Unfortunately for David Nelson, he was an easy experimental target.  This confirmed, again, that Nick had some sort of casting ability beyond fae-fire. Smiling, he tucked his phone away before he heard a small knock on the door. 

“Come in,” he said.  It was his father, holding the note that he had placed the night before.  

“Charlie.  As you can see, I got your note.  Do you want to talk about why you are trying to assemble a Dream Broome?” his father asked, cautiously.  “I know the note said no questions, but given that I wrote that recipe and incantation, I am a bit concerned.”  

“Oh,” Charlie said, quietly, unsure what to do or say to his father.  

His father closed the door and then budged up on the bed where Charlie was sitting. “It’s okay, Charlie…I just want to understand what’s going on with you, so I can help you,” he said, earnestly.

Charlie looked down at his hands, fidgeting with them a bit.  Being open with his parents was a difficult endeavor.  Prior to the Caster realization, his dad had been a closed door, completely.  His mother, on the other hand…attempting to speak with her about any sort of internal issue was like poking a hive of angry wasps.  Instead of any comfort or help, one simply got stung.  This felt like a complete olive branch in comparison.  

“Okay, dad,” Charlie said.   

His father smiled, nodding, “So…bad dreams.  Bad enough to consider magically warding them away?”

Charlie sighed.  “It has been recurring, dad. Several times, over and over…I am running outside, and then I encounter something magical.  Something dark.  So, I take cover and protect myself with magic, and I think everything is okay…but then someone has seen me.  Someone I know, someone I care about.  They are so shocked, horrified.  I turn to them, to run after them, to explain, and then…they’re swallowed up in the darkness, and it ends,” he said, pausing a bit before continuing, “and then I wake up.  Horrified.  I wake up, horrified, dad,” he finished, tears welling up in his eyes.  

His father sat there, quietly.  He appeared to be deep in thought, and eventually asked, “How do you feel during the day, especially since the dreams have started being more frequent?”  

Charlie sat there for a second, legitimately trying to reflect on how he had been feeling the days he had those dreams.  “Anxious, I guess.  Nervous about things.  Worried about tests, worried about Nick…” he trailed off.  His father nodded along, listening.  

When Charlie stopped talking, his father took a minute to think again.  “Charlie.  I think these dreams may be more to do with anxiety than anything else.  Your anxiety over things is manifesting in your dreams, but with a dash of a very real concern that you don’t seem to be overly focused on, based on what you’ve told me,” he said.  Charlie nodded along.

“But, I don’t think you need a magical fix to this, Charlie.  In fact, I’m not sure the Dream Broome would work,” he said.  

Charlie blinked rapidly, “Why not?  Dad, I’m desperate.  I just want some sort of relief,” he said pleading with his father.  

Julio Spring brought his hand up and placed it calmly on Charlie’s shoulder.  “Son, I will help you.  Here’s the deal though…we will make the Dreame Broome to test it out, and I know this won’t be really scientific, but I also want you to try some meditation, Charlie, to help relieve some stress.  I know it won’t make anxiety go away, but…it could lessen its impact. I’m only going to do the broome if you do the meditation though,” he finished, firmly. 

Charlie immediately gave his father a side hug.  “Thank you, dad,” he whispered.  His father smiled, hugging him back, and then got up off the bed.  

He glanced at his son, and said as he headed out the door, “Don’t worry about the “boundaries” talk…that’s coming later this week,” he said, smiling sheepishly at his son.  Charlie blushed crimson and hid his face in his pillow.  

His father made good on his word to obtain the materials for the Dream Broome.  They decided to assemble it in the kitchen one night.  The official story to tell Mrs. Spring was that the broome was for a class project that was supposed to represent their heritage.  Julio Spring had decided that the lavender and rosemary were emblematic enough of the Mediterranean climate that his family was from in Spain, and Charlie definitely agreed that roses and broom felt incredibly English, despite broom plants being all across Europe.  Despite being utter rubbish, it actually made sense.  Not that Charlie thought that his father was lying about writing the recipe for the broome, but had been somewhat skeptical.  That skepticism had been washed away by how quickly and particularly his father had arranged the broome.  He was not kidding about particularity either.  Each angle of the stalks had to be just right, and the sides had to be mirror images of each other – if the angle of the second rosemary stalk to the right of the rose looked a certain way, then the angle of the second rosemary stalk to the left of the rose had to match it.  With each stalk he took his time, carefully placing them.  Charlie had never seen his father work like this before.  It was like a glimpse into his heart, into his soul, and it was entirely unexpected.  Since his mom had disappeared upstairs to read, the coast was relatively clear to cast. 

When his dad had finished carefully tying up the broome, he turned to his son, “Are you ready to charge it, Charlie?” he asked. 

Charlie nodded.  “I’ve done it once before, but I think I can do it again.  Just have to clear my mind a bit,” he said. 

Charlie closed his eyes, and took a few deep breaths.  Despite everything going on, he felt like he absolutely needed to do this, to provide some relief, and so he fought off those lingering thoughts to clear his mind, as completely as possible. 

“Ready?” his father asked.  

“Let’s do this,” he replied to his father.  

They held their hands out over the Dream Broome, and then closed their eyes.  All Charlie could hear at that point was he and his father’s breathing, coming at deep and regular intervals.  Finally, he felt his hands tingle, and started to visualize the energy flowing.  The only thing, beyond the breathing, in his mind, was the intention.  He needed an escape, he needed some help, and he needed the broome to provide that for him.  They spent what felt like 10 whole minutes lingering over the broome, their breathing almost matched in pace.  Charlie felt the sensation like he had before, like it was enough and he had focused enough.  He opened his eyes, and shook his hands out to cut off the flow of energy.  His father had also done the same.  Charlie glanced over at him, seeing his father beaming. 

 “You’re a natural, Charlie.  A natural,” he said.  They were about to utter the incantation when Tori suddenly appeared in the doorway, lemonade in hand, a curious look on her face. 

“Oh, are we casting here, family?” she asked, inquisitively, but a rhetorical inquisition at best.  Charlie suspected that she had been watching them charge the broome for some time now.  

Their father chuckled.  “Yes, Tori.  Is your mother still upstairs?”  he asked. 

She nodded.  “I’m pretty sure she fell asleep reading a little bit ago,” she replied.  Julio Spring waved to his daughter to join them.  

“What are we incanting?” she asked.  Their father motioned for Charlie to explain, as he got out a piece of paper with the incantation written on it.  

“Well, Tori…I’ve been having recurring dreams the past few weeks, and they’ve been pretty awful.  And while I have agreed with dad to pursue some non-magical options to help possibly subdue them, he agreed to help me assemble this “Dream Broome” device that he had cooked up some years ago to attempt to ward off the worst of them,” he said.  

Tori nodded, smiling, and then said, “Sensible.  Very sensible.  You know, I’m glad we can come up with these sorts of solutions now instead of not talking about things or shouting about things.  Very refreshing,” she said, almost sarcastically. 

Charlie chuckled a bit.  Their dad pushed over the piece of paper into the middle, so that all could see it.  “Read over this.  Do you understand the pronunciation?” he asked, sternly, “Because you should practice if you don’t.  Don’t want to muck it up with mispronunciations.” 

Charlie nodded, muttering, “Latin class, dad,” and then turned to his sister and explained the vowel sounds to her quickly, providing examples.  She nodded.  

Their father nodded his head and said, “Okay, join hands.  It will work even better with contact between us.”  And so they did, and then they read aloud, in quiet voices: 

In somnīs, pācēm

In hīs flōrēs, tumultum

Charlie looked as the floral broome seemed to glow, the colors of each of the different flowers seemingly more pronounced; the yellows of the broom more vivid, the purple lavender softer, yet brighter, the luscious green of the rosemary even more earthy and appealing, and the white of the center rose, more luminous than a full moon.  If one listened close enough, they could hear a soft crackle of energy flowing, as the magic of the flowers activated upon the words they cast.  And then suddenly, as if to show that the arrangement had understood its invocation, that it had received their request to protect dreams and processed it fully, the glowing and buzzing hum stopped.  He turned and looked at his father, who nodded approvingly.  

“We did some good work on that one, kids,” their father said, smiling.  Charlie smiled back, putting his head on his father’s shoulder. 

“Thank you dad, I really appreciate this,” he said.  

Tori smiled, contentedly.  “You say that now, Charles, but report back when he has “the talk” with you in a few days,” she said, casually.  

Charlie turned and looked at his sister, wide-eyed and scarlet, “Jesus, Tori!” he exclaimed.  Their father just laughed.  

“Alright you two, off to bed.  It is getting late,” he said, shooing them off, out of the kitchen.  

Charlie grabbed the Dreame Broome, and went upstairs to his room.  He casually hung the broome up on the wall, off of a small nail he had used a year or two ago for an old picture frame.  The frame had fallen off and broken, and Charlie had no desire to replace it at the time, so the nail had stayed there, unoccupied since then.  Flowers were light enough, and less breakable than glass,  in a sense, so it felt correct for them to occupy that nail.  Charlie looked at the broome, reverently, smiling, hopeful that it would work for him.  Staying true to his word with his dad, he texted Nick goodnight and some hearts, and then went about meditating.  It was really simple, almost like he was going to magically charge something, but just the mind clearing part.  He sat up in bed, and focused on his breathing, trying to find a steady, modest depth.  He kept at it for at least 5 minutes, before intrusive thoughts returned to his mind.  What if it didn’t work?  What if there was something wrong with him?   “Focus, Charlie,” he said to himself, calmly.  He returned to breathing, but this time let his inner monologue debate itself.  You and your family cast successfully on the broome.  You are doing well in all of your classes, you aren’t just going to up and fail an exam.  You have been revising so consistently, and so hard .   Sometimes he wondered if clearing all thoughts out of his mind was less effective in comparison to letting himself internally debate.  Sure, sometimes the worst parts of the internal monologue felt most compelling, but more often than not, he was able to provide evidentiary counterpoints to the worst of the intrusive thoughts.  He was not allowing them to swallow him alive, and that had to count for something.  With that in mind, he felt some peace wash over him, and he drifted off to sleep. 

Whether it was the meditation/vigorous internal debate or the Dream Broome, Charlie did not know, but not a single bad dream plagued his sleep the night before.  Even though there were a lot of factors that could be affecting the situation, Charlie was cautiously optimistic that those two changes were the primary ones.  He plopped down next to Nick in form, looking incredibly chipper.  Nick turned to him, looking exhausted.  

“You look quite chipper today, Char,” he said, sleepily. 

Charlie chuckled.  “And you look beyond exhausted,” he said to Nick.  “Not much sleep?”  

Nick shook his head.  “David had been so annoying that whole time, and then I got him to shut up, and then after that he raised such a silent ruckus, badgering mom and I the entire time with words written on a white board,” he said, groaning. 

Charlie laughed.  “Sounds like nothing short of absolutely maiming the man will make him less annoying,” he said.  

Nick put his hand up to his face, laughing.  “Don’t get any ideas, you menace,” he said, in between laughs.  

“Who, me?  Never, my captain,” he said, poking Nick on the arm playfully. 

“Oi!” Nick said, ribbed by the captain joke.  He got a text from his mom, which he checked quickly before Mr. Lange started taking the register.  “Mum said David’s voice has come back, so I suppose it is currently a 12 hour window,” he said. 

“Good to know,” Charlie whispered back to him, raising his eyebrows. 

After registration was done, and the bell went off, Nick turned to Charlie and said, “See you at the Paris meeting tonight.  I have to eat lunch with the lads today, since it’s Year 11’s last day.”  

Charlie groaned.  “Don’t remind me of that, I’m going to be sad now,” he said, whining.  Nick just gave him a small wink and a wave goodbye. 

Thinking about the coming weeks, Charlie felt utterly unprepared for school without Nick Nelson by his side.  Not even Tao and Isaac could fill that gaping hole in his heart.  Not wanting to drown himself in anxiety this early in the morning, Charlie took a deep breath and headed off to class.  He would cross that mental bridge later, if he could.

Chapter Text

The evening of the Paris Trip Informational Session had arrived, and like any other evening at the Olsson house, it was pretty much a standard affair.  Darcy pawed at some food in the kitchen, knowing that the informational session occurred during standard Olsson dinner time. Mother Olsson asked Darcy the standard questions about her day, which were beyond dripping with feigned interest, and father Olsson asked her if she was going to pack any skirts or dresses for her trip, because pants were too butch for Paris.  Again, standard parental Olsson lack of care and blatant homophobia.  Darcy responded to her mother as even-toned and politely as possible.  She could tell that her mother was truly just going through the motions, but the dress/skirt question from her father really just stopped her in her tracks.  She could do little but stop and stare at him, shake her head, and then just walk away.  

Drowning out the yelling about “disrespect,” from the other end of the house, Darcy shouted, “I’ll be back in a couple hours, who knows how long these meetings last,” and quickly exited the house, slamming the door behind her. 

As usual, Tara was waiting for her a safe distance from the house, on the lane.  “They really are the worst, Jonesy,” she said, groaning.  

“What was it this time?” Tara asked.  

“Same standard parental Olsson garbage, as always.  Standardized homophobia, standardized apathy towards me as a person,” she replied, sighing.  

Tara frowned, clearly unsure how to respond to that.  

Darcy chimed back in, “But it’s ok.  I’m with my super awesome girlfriend now; and we’re about to find out about the best vacation I’ll have ever been on ever.”  

Tara smiled.  “We’re going to walk back to my place first, Darcy.  My parents want to drop us off and go to the meeting.  I know they’ll be happy to see you, too,” she said. 

“Oh that’s right!  How could I forget about mum and pop Jonesy,” Darcy said, brimming with happiness. 

Tara’s parents truly were outstanding people, to the point that Darcy strongly considered them more parental than her own biological parents.  At 16, going on 17, she did not think that she would already be in a spot of having a preferred chosen family over her biological family, but here she was.  She really ought to have gotten them a gift for their troubles, but given her days with her parents, she had basically forgotten that she was even seeing Tara’s parents that evening.  Ugh, the memory sieve was tragically real.  

Tara’s mom has a particular hankering for a specific type of chocolate that had clusters of pecans and almonds, drizzled in caramel, and then covered in dark chocolate that then had white chocolate drizzled on top of it.  Darcy could never remember the brand, but she could always visualize the box.  It had a distinct ivory color to it, with gold filigree decorative elements, and ornate script writing on it, also in rich golden hues.  Despite their opulent appearance, they weren’t outrageously expensive, but they most definitely were not for habitual consumption, either.  Special occasions only!  Darcy thought so much about those chocolates, their deliciousness, and how much happiness they brought Mrs. Jones when Mr. Jones brought them home for a holiday or anniversary, that she too, started smiling.  

Tara nudged her.  “You’ve been very silent, and now very smiley.  What’s going on in that head of yours?” she asked.   

“Nothing, nothing at all.  Just focusing on happiness,” Darcy replied.  

They kept walking, almost to Tara’s place, when Darcy nearly tripped on a rock.  Losing her balance a bit, her hand brushed the small purse she was carrying. It felt weirdly heavier than she remembered earlier in the evening.

Straightening herself out, she smiled goofily at Tara.  “Lost my balance a bit there.  How silly,” she said.  

Tara simply nodded and laughed lightly, holding her hand firmly.  “There, I’ll keep you even keeled,” she said.  

Again, Darcy brushed her hand over the purse.  It definitely felt heavier, she was not imagining things earlier.  As if she was getting some chapstick out quickly, Darcy started to slowly unzip the bag with her free hand; with a portion of the zipper undone, she saw something unexpected.  The corner of a small, ivory colored box was poking up from the top of the bag.  Scrunching her face, she was incredibly confused by this development.  That box definitely was not in her bag earlier, not before she left the house, not after she left the house.  Not at all.  What on earth was it?  Just as she went to inspect everything more, they had reached Tara’s house.  

Darcy turned to Tara really quickly, “Gosh, I forgot to pee before we left my house, can I hop in real fast before your parents are ready to go?  I don’t want to get stuck conversing and miss my chance before the meeting,” she said.  

Tara laughed.  “Always so chaotic.  Yeah, I think it will be fine, Darcy,” she said.  

They opened the door and Darcy ran straight for the powder room close to the entrance.  Finally, privacy.  She sat down, fully unzipped her purse, and gasped, quietly.  Inside the bag was a small sized box of chocolates.  Pulling the box out, Darcy examined it – indeed, it was the variety that Tara’s mother enjoyed so much;  the filigree and fancy fonts were the same, and the description matched what she remembered.  Bizarre. Odd. Strange.   

Shoving the box of chocolates back into her purse, Darcy washed her hands and dried them off.  Had to keep up with the ruse, you know?  As she exited the powder room, she was greeted by both of Tara’s parents.  

“Darcy, dear!  How wonderful to see you. Are you doing well, honey?” Mrs. Jones asked.  

Darcy smiled, replying, “As well as I can be, Mrs. Jones.  Would be better if my parents were a bit nicer more often.”  

Mr. Jones shook his head.  “I still can’t believe some of the stories you tell us.  Always remember, you have a place here, if you need it, hon,” he said.  

Darcy moved in to hug both of them.  They were so kind, so loving, and it was exactly what Darcy needed.  At that time, Darcy started unzipping her purse. 

“This was kind of random, but I decided to get you a small gift of gratitude, for being so kind to me, and such awesome parents to Tara and even me, really,” she said, handing over the small box of chocolates to Mrs. Jones.  

Tara looked at her girlfriend, her eyes glistening.  She normally made fun of Darcy for being downright chaotic, but her girlfriend truly had a heart of gold under that mischievous armor. 

Mrs. Jones teared up a bit, too, hugging Darcy even more.  “You know my favorites, even.  Oh hon, we just love you so much,” she said, on the verge of bawling.  

Mr. Jones was smiling, no, grinning with happiness.  “I love you all very much, but I think we want to have some sort of composure for this meeting,” he said.  

Tara, her mother, and Darcy all chuckled, sniffing a bit.  They all gave each other a few more hugs before heading out to the car for the meeting. 

On the drive to school, Mr. Jones picked up the conversation regarding Darcy’s parents.  

“So, Darcy…how did you convince your parents to give you the permission to go?” he asked, with a bit of a surprised tone to his voice.  

Darcy smiled.  “You know, honestly Mr. Jones…I’m not quite sure how I did that.  Maybe it was because I told them I would pay for it on my own?  Maybe they just want me out of the house for a full week?  Or both?  I don’t really know,” she said.  

Mrs. Jones reacted, “You are paying for it yourself?  Really?  I can’t believe that, Darcy!” 

Darcy just shrugged.  Mr. Jones followed that reaction with, “We’ll have to make sure we send Tara with some extra spending money.  Gotta make sure you get a Paris hoodie to add to your fantastic hoodie collection,” he said, a glint in his eye, and a smile on his face.  

Darcy blushed in happiness.  

Tara huffed a bit, “Dad, you’re embarrassing her,” she said.  

Darcy giggled a bit. “Tara, I agree with him for sure on the hoodie account – I definitely need a Paris hoodie,” she said.  Tara smiled at her girlfriend, putting her head on Darcy’s shoulder for the last few minutes of the drive.  

On the opposite side of town, Charlie Spring got into the car with his dad to head off to the trip meeting.  They still had not scheduled the “talk” that his father had so seriously promised him, which did the absolute opposite of wonders for Charlie’s anxiety.  He plopped in, eager to go to the meeting to see his friends and Nick.  Julio Spring backed out of the driveway cautiously, and took off in the direction of the school.  

Without prompting, or warning, 30 seconds after they left the driveway, he said to Charlie, “So…you and Nick.”  

Oh god .  Talk about being sprung upon.  Charlie gulped, prepared yet completely unprepared about the barrage of questions that would soon be flying at him.  

“Yes, Dad?” he replied.  

“When did that become a thing?” his father asked.  Okay, this he could do.  

“Well, we kissed at Harry Green’s party, which is why I was upset that night because I didn’t think he actually liked me.  When in actuality he was having a bit of a sexuality crisis.  And then we took it from there.  We had our first date the other weekend at the beach,” Charlie said, smiling. 

 “I really like him, dad.  He’s so kind, easy to talk to, and just overall a great person to be around,” he added in, as if he was trying to convince his father of something.  

Julio Spring smiled, “That much is evident, Charlie.  I’m comfortable with the fact that he’s quite a good person.  I’m mildly concerned about him being a bit older than you, though,” he said.  

Oh boy, here it comes . 

“It’s only 18 months, dad.  It isn’t like…a year 10 and a year 13 dating,” he said, trying to be concrete.  

His father replied, “Well, I know that…I just worry that even that small difference will mean something.  He’s more developed than you, so what if…what if he forces himself upon you, sexually?” The last part, his dad choked out, uncomfortably.  

Charlie turned crimson.  “Dad!  That’s not even been a thought that has crossed either of our minds.  We literally just started dating!” he said, shocked.  

“I know, I’m just thinking about the future,” his father said, quietly.  

Charlie nodded, slowly.  Yes. The future.  “I know Nick well enough as a person to know that he would never ask me to do something that I was not ready to do.  It is the same way for me, as well.  In fact, I am very comfortably letting him dictate the pace of his coming out.  Which I see is different, but we respect each other's boundaries so much,” Charlie said firmly.  

They were getting closer to the school now, and at a stop light.  His father turned to him, and smiled.  “I am lucky to have a son who understands these things so well at such a young age,”  he said warmly.  

Charlie smiled.  “Thanks dad.”  His father nodded, driving as the light changed.  

“Just promise me that…when you do…get sexually active,” he choked a little bit saying it before continuing, “that you’ll be safe and respectful of consent and mutual boundaries,” he swallowed and choked a bit more, “and also really try not to do it at our house, unless there’s absolutely a 0% chance of the two of you being found.  I’m not ready to handle that,” he said, face absolutely pink with embarrassment.  

Charlie slid down the length of the front seat, hoping he could disappear, all while screaming, “"Daaaaaaaad stoppppppp,” at the loudest volume possible.  

He practically rolled out of the car as it pulled to a stop at the school.  “Byeee, I’ll see you inside, dad!” Charlie yelled from outside, racing off in a clip to get away from there.  He glanced back and saw his dad chuckling rapturously, still sitting in the driver seat.  “Parents,” Charlie muttered under his breath.  

He did not have long to stew in his embarrassment, as his dad jogged up behind him.  “You know that was all well meant, Charlie,” he said sheepishly. Charlie just groaned.  Thankfully, he did not have a lot of time to keep the embarrassment going, as Sarah Nelson and Nick were walking over to them, both smiling warmly.  

“Hi, Julio!  It is lovely seeing you,” she said, waving to Charlie’s dad.  

“Hello, Sarah.  Shall we grab seats in the adult section? We’ve got some catching up to do,” he said. 

 Nick and Charlie both turned incredibly crimson.  Charlie looked at his father like he had been stabbed.  “Et tu, Brute?” he said, dramatically.  

Sarah Nelson just laughed.  “Don’t worry boys, we won’t overshare too much,” she said, an incredibly mischievous smile on her face.

Nick simply put his palm on his face.  “Remember, parents…most of the people at school don’t know we’re together, so omit names if you’re really going to talk,” he said, worried.  

Both Mr. Spring and Mrs. Nelson nodded, and made their way inside.  Charlie and Nick gave them a minute head start, before they proceeded to look for a table.  

“If you think that was bad, you should have been present for the talk we had in the car, my dad and I,” Charlie said, groaning.  Going over to an empty table on the side of the room, they sat down and waited for more of their friends to arrive.

“What did you two talk about, Char?” Nick asked.  

Charlie put his arms on the table and nearly buried his head in them.  “He gave me the “talk,” Nick.  The talk ,” Charlie said, grimacing.  “I thought he was going to do this at home someday this week, but I guess he decided since I was a captive audience for 10-15 minutes on the drive over, no better time to mortify me,” he continued.  “I wasn’t mentally prepared, at all!” 

Looking over at Nick, he saw him turn bright red.  “We haven’t even talked about that stuff, yet, Char.  I’m sorry if I did something or said something that made him want to bring it up,” he said.  

Charlie shook his head.  “I think it was just my dad, being a dad, not anything that you did or said to make him want to bring it up,” he replied, brushing his hand on Nick’s leg to make him feel better.  “And I definitely told him that.  I said that we weren’t even discussing such things at this time, and that if it comes up, I know you’ll be incredibly respectful and communicative with me, and we’ll be safe and it will be fine, and…” 

Nick stopped him suddenly from rambling.  “Don’t you mean when it comes up, Char?”  he asked.  

Charlie blinked rapidly, his heart rate spiking.  He had said if.  Nick was saying when.  He turned and Nick was looking at him, tenderly.  “Oh,” was all Charlie could get out.  

Nick gently placed a hand on Charlie’s arm.  “Char, I cannot imagine living without you.  I think, even now, it is safe to say “when” over “if,” unless you’re planning on dumping me in the next few years,” he said.  It was so precious and fluffy, yet ended so canned and faux-serious.  

Charlie just laughed, and booped his boyfriend on the nose.  “I could never, Nicholas Nelson,” he replied, his cheeks hot.  

“Ugh, I seriously cannot even handle what I just witnessed.  I’ll need an antacid for simply viewing that,” Tao Xu said loudly.  Other members of the friend group were slowly arriving at the session.

Isaac, to his right, book in hand, chuckled.  “Seriously though, you two, if you are trying to keep it low key, that was certainly not it.  That shit was straight out of a RomCom,” Isaac said with a bit of sass.  

Nick looked at Isaac’s book.  He was casually reading Paris: The Biography of a City , a historical-type book that Nick’s own father had sent him years and years ago.  He was too young for it then, and never really got into it. 

“You taking notes on Paris, Isaac?” Nick asked.  

Isaac nodded.  “Oh yeah, I want to know so much more.  Paris is so fascinating, and I’m not even that far into the book.  Did you know that the land Paris is on has been occupied by humans for thousands of years now?  Like even way before Roman times.”  Charlie smiled, and Tao rolled his eyes.  

Nick had really opened up the floor for a book rave by Isaac, but Nick did not let himself get steam rolled.  “Yeah, it really is beautiful.  My dad lives there, you know?  I’ve visited once or twice before,” he replied.  

Isaac’s eyes lit up, Tao looked relatively surprised, and Charlie blushed pink as Nick continued, “Je parle francais, aussi. Fluently.”  

Tao looked annoyed.  “I knew you had some skill, but fluently? What other cool things are you hiding from us?” he asked Nick sarcastically.  Charlie looked at Nick and thought, “If only they knew.”  

Isaac laughed a bit.  “I’ve been bad though, I skipped around, which I understand is really wrecking the author’s narrative, but…I’m just really fascinated by the Paris Catacombs,” he said enthusiastically.  Before much more conversation on the Paris Catacombs could ensue, Darcy, Tara, and Elle all approached the table.  

Darcy, always effervescent, gave a moderately loud, chummy greeting of “What’s up, my Lavender Loves?” to them all.  

She had messaged them all a few days ago, telling them she was choosing to call her LGBTQ+ friends “lavender loves” in public more and more.  When they had questioned her about it, she said it was because “the hetero youth didn’t pay attention in history, and would never get the lavender reference regarding the gays,”  and all of them could not argue with her there, to be honest.  Personally, Charlie loved lavender flowers immensely, and he enjoyed any sort of soap, cleanser, detergent, candle, or scent that had notes of lavender in it.  Sometimes he wondered if that was one of the factors that drew him to Nick so intensely.  Whatever detergent Mrs. Nelson used for laundry smelled predominantly lavender in scent, with notes of vanilla.  It was heaven.  Just another one of the silly and small things that Charlie loved about Nick.  The three Higgs girls filed in around the table, filling it up.  

“What are we all chatting about?” Tara asked.  

Tao answered first. “We’re mostly disgusted by how cute Nick and Charlie are conducting themselves, followed up with a very brief, yet excited talk about Paris,” he said.  

Elle smiled, nodding.  “I am certain that all of that is 100% true, especially the cuteness part,” she said.  

Charlie rolled his eyes.  “You all are so hateful,” he said, sticking out his tongue at them.  

Just before they could banter more, Mr. Ajayi and a teacher from Higgs, Mr. Farouk called the meeting to attention.  Charlie mostly zoned out on the details, as they were heavily parent oriented.  Everyone around him seemed to be doing the exact same thing.  As much as he loved Mr. Ajayi, there was not much pizzaz to the presentation.  The one thing that Charlie did notice, however, was the furtive little glances that Mr. Ajayi was sending over to Mr. Farouk when Mr. Farouk took over speaking.  It was oddly cute…and suspicious.  Charlie shot a look at Darcy, who had stopped paying attention 5 minutes into the presentation and was dawdling on her phone.  He motioned for her to get closer.  

Charlie whispered to her, “Hey, Darcy…I know you claim to have the best gay intuition this side of the Thames, so…what do you think about Mr. Farouk?  Do you see the little gazes Mr. Ajayi is sending his way?  Thoughts?”  

Darcy shrugged.  “Give me a second.  Let me pay attention for 5 more minutes, and then I’ll deliver my expert analysis,” she said.  

During the 5 minute window, Mr. Ajayi made an off-hand comment about no male-female shared rooms, hoping to appease the parents; students groaned aloud, except their table.  Two-thirds of the table just looked at each other and grinned devilishly.  Strictly enforced same-sex rooms?  A boon for the gays.   

After a few more minutes passed, Darcy turned back to Charlie, smiling, and said, “Yep.  Definitely gay.  He and Mr. Ajayi will definitely have some romantic dalliance in Paris, because it’s Paris, and then upon returning to the UK will act awkwardly around each other for a few months before attempting to actually date.”  Charlie stifled a laugh.  

By the end of the evening, he, Tao, Isaac, and Nick had signed up for a room, while Darcy, Tara, Elle, and an acquaintance of theirs, Sahar, had gotten one together, too.  In a matter of weeks, they’d be arriving in Paris, the City of Love and of Lights.

Chapter Text

The evening air in Paris was cooler and crisper than it had been in recent memory.  Normally, June brought some degree of mild heat to the city, with a dash of humidity.  Not today, however.  Mild.  Oddly mild.  These were not the only odd occurrences of the day, in Stéphane’s mind.  Earlier he had met a client prior to lunch, who had rescheduled their meeting several times the prior two weeks.  The man was intensely interested in Stéphane’s consulting work, and had peppered him with questions about clients he had worked with in the past.  While he had no issues divulging some of his past work for them, in details only available to the general public, the man routinely had hinted at Stéphane’s current clients.  That, for any consultant in any field, was a no-no.  Mais, non .  It was all so weird, a current client badgering him about other clients.  Simply bizarre.  The project that he was undertaking with the nosy client, had to do with a potential future research endeavor in the Paris Catacombs, very much in the consulting and planning stages.  Stéphane’s role was to research the possible barriers that such a plan would encounter, and discuss mitigation strategies that could be used when pitching a formal plan to various government agencies.  It was part of his job to truly understand the goals of the client, so that his work would ultimately lead to their goals being fulfilled.  In this instance, the objectives of the future project seemed…intrinsically fraught.  Pulling apart sections of the catacombs in search of something that appeared to be lost to history, fabled…Stéphane shook his head.  How this would be approved, he did not know, but he better get paid. 

Looking out from the balcony of his small, but modest apartment, he could see the lights of the Père LaChaise cemetery in the distance.  While many single adults may choose more lofty locations in the city, or more bohemian locations, the 20th arrondissement of Paris had a dignified sense to it that differed from the remainder of the city, at least in Stéphane’s eyes.  The proximity of the cemetery definitely lent a more somber, quieter air to the area, even though many people visited daily.  It was an ideal location to work from home, yet still had access to the rest of the city without the complications of the banlieu.  He just had to work an uncharacteristic amount to maintain the expenses of living in Paris itself.  Whenever he thought about that, he laughed a little.  It felt very Anglo, and not very French.  He blamed living in the UK for a good amount of time on that.  Although, he should be happy about that, because at least he got his sons out of that time there.  If only he and Sarah could overcome their differences, maybe things would have worked out differently for them, and their family.  Stéphane’s deep thoughts were interrupted by a beeping notification on his phone.  He glanced, and saw it was from his son, Nicholas.

Nicholas:  Bonsoir, papa.  N’oublie pas, je visite Paris le 28 Juin jusqu'au 4 Juillet.  Je voudrais te voir!

He sighed, and did not type to reply, but rather made a note to reply tomorrow, and let his son know that he would call him when he was in Paris to see what he was up to.  Knowing a school trip, it would be incredibly difficult to do a lot outside of the chaperoned activities.  He sighed.  His son had reached out to him several times over the past month or so.  Seemingly desperate to talk, but Stéphane had always failed to follow through.  

This brought his mind to the other oddities that he had not yet recounted, those which spanned not only that day, but the prior days, as well.  Dreams that had ruined his sleep, countless times, suddenly waned.  Cold Turkey, as his American clients would say.  Normally he would praise that, but they did not normally just stop, but rather, faded out slowly over time, shortening in duration, becoming increasingly vague in vision and meaning.  Not these dreams, however.  One night, he had the recurring dream, and the next night, they were done.  The thing that perplexed him the most, too, was the interconnections between his dreams and the world around him.   He dreamed at night about what appeared to be the Catacombs of Paris, yet did business with a client hoping to delve into the same Catacombs.  He saw his son in the dream, with others, and his son is set to arrive in Paris later that month.  Usually he dreamt about places and people he knew nothing about, but it appears the threads of fate were being pulled in familiar directions around him.  He remembered his grand-mère, a wise older woman, talking to him about these dreams when he was younger.  Her stance was always, “If you were meant to get involved, you would see that which is familiar to you.  Otherwise, you are just seeing other people’s stories, before even they do.”  Given that advice, he ought to place more effort on seeing his son while Nicholas was visiting Paris.  It appeared that fate deemed it necessary. 

If he told his friend Olivier such things, he would be psychologically picked apart.  Stéphane frowned, turning the lights out in the flat.  Perhaps he needed to invest in more open-minded friends who did not think intensive therapy was the answer for everything.  It certainly would be nice to have someone listen to what he experienced fairly regularly, as nonjudgmentally as possible.  He sat down in his bed, and did some breathing exercises to clear his mind, and after a few minutes, reclined to rest.  It was time to test whether or not the dreams had truly completely abated, or if they were simply on a brief hiatus.  Truly, how does one know that one is dreaming, until one wakes up from the dream?  Not even Stéphane knew, except tonight, in a lucid state, he did notice something…odd.  He was drifting off, his brain finally starting to transition toward REM, when familiar swirling, dark clouds started to drift into his mind.  Purple and indigo, gaseous masses, and a rattling sound, like bones being carted around, and then…nothing.  Just the normal, blank slate of the mind on its way to REM, and then sleep.  Waking up the next morning, Stéphane was absolutely sure of what was going on.  Someone, or something, had blocked his incoming dreams, but through what machinations, he was not completely certain.  Starting his stove for his morning espresso shots, he made another note:  14hr, telephone papa.  He was certain that his father could tell him what magic was afoot, what magic could be blocking his usually prophetic dreams.  As frustrating and awful as the phone call could be, it had to be done.  If he did not fully understand the dream, his son could be at great risk.  Nicholas .  He could not let such a thing happen. 

Across the English Channel, Nick Nelson was cuddling with his boyfriend in his double bed.  Charlie had come straight to his house after a grueling day of school, and Nick, now done for the year, had welcomed him with a warm hug and some snacks.  Nick could tell instantly that something was definitely off with Charlie, however.  He looked exhausted beyond the typical exam exhaustion.  

“What’s going on, Char? You don’t look well right now,” Nick said quietly, extending an arm around him. 

Charlie sighed.  “After you left the Paris meeting last night, I had a long conversation with Tao about the past few years.  He kind of…startled me with something,” Charlie murmured.  

Nick replied, “It strikes me as something worth sharing, if it weighs on you that much.”  

Charlie nodded lightly.  “Well, he seems to think he may have accidentally outed me last year,” he said quietly. 

Nick, his face drawn up in shock, uttered, “What?”  

Charlie replied quickly, “Emphasis on the accidental part.  He said he kept having this recurring dream about it.  About talking to Isaac in the hallway about it, nonchalantly, but also not super obvious that people would easily be listening in.  But then some random student in another year nearly knocks him over as he tries to move past him, almost as if he had been listening in on their conversation from behind them.”   

Nick put his chin in his right hand. “Sounds like it's a memory of his, repressed over the past year,” he said.  

Charlie put his head on Nick’s shoulder.  “Not that either of us are psychologists, but…it does sound like that, too.  And only recently, with things getting better, now his brain is letting him see it again,” Charlie sighed out as he finished that sentence.  

Nick nudged him.  “But is it really getting better, Char?  In some ways, yes, but sometimes I really worry about you,” he said. 

Charlie nodded, replying, “Yeah.  I wish I could pretend it was all better, perfect now.  I know it is not as bad as last year, but…sometimes I feel like it could be getting there again, and I am scared that it might…I’m sorry.”  

Nick pulled him in for a tighter cuddling grip.  “Hey, none of that.  No apologizing” he said.  He ran his fingers through Charlie’s curls, stroking his head gently. “Can you promise me that you’ll tell me if things get that bad again?” he asked, quietly.

Charlie nodded his head. “Yeah, I promise,” he said, dozily.  

They had decided to watch a Marvel movie, one that Nick knew both of them would enjoy.  About 15 minutes into the film, Nick noticed Charlie starting to nod off.  Exam season must really be taking a toll on him. Nick continued to examine Charlie’s face. Dark circles formed under his eyes, his normally lightly-olive toned skin seemed paler, sallower.  Nick continued to stroke Charlie’s curls lightly, keeping him tucked in close.  He knew Charlie loved it when they did this, as he almost always felt cold, even when it was incredibly warm.  Suddenly, the front door opened, and Nick could hear David lumbering around downstairs.  Charlie jolted out of his half-slumber.

“Hey, you seem a bit tired. We don’t have to keep watching the movie if you’re falling asleep. I can go make some tea,” Nick said, smiling sweetly at Charlie.

Charlie replied, “Yeah, I definitely have had some rocky sleep lately.  I even tried some magical remedies that held up for a night, but no luck.” 

Nick looked at him curiously.  “Magical remedies?” he asked, following up with, “What sort of magical remedies would you even use for poor sleep?”

Charlie looked nervous to even tell him, like he was afraid Nick would get upset with him.  Slowly, he responded to Nick’s question.  “Well,” he said, “I have been having this recurring dream that has really come back with more frequency lately.”  

Nick nodded at him to continue.  “I have basically had a dream where one of my friends discovers that I am a Caster, and then suddenly they are swallowed by darkness.”  

Sensing a good pausing point, Nick asked, “So you did some casting to…stop your dreams?  Stop this particular dream?  I’m just at a loss as to what you could do magically to dreams.” 

Charlie actually laughed a bit.  “Sometimes I forget that you don’t have the Book at your disposal 24/7,” he said. 

“And to be honest, there’s all sorts of odd things to do with dreams.  Amplify them, etc.  Believe it or not, but my dad actually helped me with this.”

“So what did you end up doing?”  Nick asked, waving him on to continue.  Nick was incredibly invested in hearing this story. 

Charlie replied, “Basically, we made a magical floral arrangement that’s supposed to rely on the magical properties of plants to protect and “brush” away bad dreams.  It is called a Dream Broome.”  

Their conversation got cut short, when both of them heard clunking shoes heading up the stairs.  Both boys sat up in bed relatively quickly, disentangling themselves from one another.  Nick got out of the bed, right as David burst into the room.  

“Oh Nickyyyyy!” he yelled obnoxiously, as if he was hoping to wake his brother up from a nap.  Nick looked at his brother, a grumpy frown clearly displayed.  David clearly did not expect another person to be in the room, because his demeanor immediately changed from simply obnoxious to cloying interest.   Nick immediately picked up on this, and shifted his stance to imply that he had no interest in David’s presence, arms crossed severely, back up straight and chest puffed out.  

“Oi Nicky…who is your friend here?  Care to introduce us?” he nagged.  Before Nick could say anything, David cut him off.  “Oh, nevermind.  I know him.  That’s Charlie.”  Nick immediately looked surprised.

“How do you know about Charlie, David?”  he asked cautiously.  Before David could even respond, Nick cut him off, not wanting to entertain his brother’s crap at all.  “You know, never mind.  We’re busy, so could you kindly fuck off?”  

David retorted, “All right, don’t get your tits in a bunch.  Just wanted to meet the guy that turned my brother gay .”  Nick immediately scowled.

“What the fuck, David!” he shouted at his brother.  

“Mum told me everything, you know?” David said casually, as he turned out of the room.  Charlie got out of bed to follow Nick, who had lunged after his brother.  

“I’m actually Bisexual, David.  Not that your tiny brain understands these differences very well,” Nick snapped back at him. 

“Oh whatever, man.  If you’re gay then actually say you’re gay.  “Bisexual” pff,” David snorted out as he walked down the stairs.  

They continued walking down the stairs, Nick now shouting at his brother.  “This is why I didn’t want to tell you, at all.  You’re a massively homophobic piece of shit.”

David snapped back, “What, I’m not allowed to be skeptical of my little brother at all?” 

“No, you are supposed to just accept your family as they are!”  Both Nick and David turned and looked at Charlie, who had just yelled that from several feet behind them.  Before either could say anything, Sarah Nelson appeared at the bottom of the stairs, looking quite concerned. 

“Boys, what on Earth is going on?  Please stop swearing!”  she said, firmly.  

“Mum, why did you tell David about me and Charlie?” Nick asked, upset.  

“Oh baby, I didn’t say a word to David about that.  It’s not my place to tell him or your father,” she said, looking really upset about the whole situation.  Almost betrayed that her son thought she would say such a thing. 

David laughed.  “I was lying.  I just went into your room a few times when you were away.  For someone so worried about coming out, you certainly leave a lot of pictures of the two of you kissing laying out for anyone to see,” he said maliciously. 

Sarah Nelson immediately fired up.  “David, you had NO RIGHT to do such a thing.  Apologize to your brother!”  she said, crossly. 

David rolled his eyes.  “Mum, he’s so full of shit.  “I’m bisexual,” are you kidding me?  And you entertain this? He can’t even admit he’s gay!” 

Nick shouted loudly, “Oh fuck off, David!  You are the worst human alive, besides Harry Greene, and even he’s pulled his head out of his ass lately!”

Sarah Nelson was not having this. “Boys!  This stops, now!” she yelled at her sons. 

Still up on the mid landing, Charlie lifted up his right hand slightly, and mouthed almost silently, “ Silē”

David, on the verge of talking back to his mother and continuing his tirade against Nick, only ended up croaking out a few syllables.  Nick suddenly looked up at the mid-landing, seeing the look in Charlie’s eyes.  He had clearly just said, albeit incredibly quietly, an incantation, and if Nick had to guess, it was probably the one that he had used on his brother a day earlier.  David again tried to get some words out, but just a raspy croaking noise made it out.  Charlie started walking down the stairs, carefully.  

“Nick, I’ll text you later.  I think it is best that I head out for now,” he said quietly to Nick, his face blushing.  He clearly knew that Nick had figured out what he had done.  Sarah Nelson looked quite confused at the interaction, but also understood how awkward all of this must have been for Charlie.  Nick just nodded his head, still very upset about the whole situation. 

Sarah Nelson patted Charlie on the shoulder.  “I’m very sorry about this dear.  I’m sure this made you incredibly uncomfortable,” she said meekly.  

Charlie just smiled at her and turned to walk toward the door.  He stopped at David, who looked positively seething at this point, but was completely incapable of uttering a word.  

Charlie, a devilish look in his eye, turned to Nick’s brother, and without hesitation, calmly said, “You know, David…if you weren’t such an uncaring, obnoxious twat of a man…perhaps you wouldn’t yell as much and lose your voice so much?  Just something to think about in the future.”  He winked at David, roughly patting him on the arm, and then turned to wave goodbye to Nick and Sarah, both of whom had totally shocked looks on their faces.  Charlie then opened the door, and walked out.  

Nick blushed profusely.  Righteously angry, confident, magic Casting Charlie was the most attractive thing he had seen since…normal Charlie.  His heart practically thumped in his chest.  He never would have asked Charlie to defend him, never would have asked Charlie to stick up to his brother on his behalf, but that was the part that kept striking his heart over and over.  His boyfriend simply just did it, of his own accord.  Moments like this kept reinforcing that feeling, deep inside, of love.  That feeling that this was meant to be, on a level beyond normal high school romances.  Nick turned to his mother, who looked incredibly stunned by what had just happened.

“I didn’t expect that,” she said, frankly.  And then, she suddenly laughed.  Not just one laugh, but a whole string of them, as if it was the funniest thing she had seen in a decade.  David just looked at her, and started motioning angrily, like it was not funny at all. 

“Oh, don’t even start, David,” she said tersely.  “You deserved every ounce of that from Charlie, and then some.”   She crossed her arms.  “Perhaps you should think about how you’ve treated your brother.  If I hear of any sort of altercation again between you two, you’ll be turning around back to uni and forgetting all about Menorca.”  Without another word, she walked away, cell phone in hand, getting ready to call their father.  Nick just glanced at David, a smirk on his face.  

“Perhaps you should consider pissing off back to uni until Menorca, David,” Nick said simply, before turning around and walking back upstairs to his room. He shut his door firmly, and then plopped down on his bed.  

Why was coming out such a messy, awful process?  It never really ended, did it?  It was a series of occurrences throughout life, some of which were uneventful, some of which were meaningful, and some of which were absolutely 100% rage inducing.   Just as he had started pondering the depths and debacles of coming out, his phone dinged, which immediately drew his attention. 

Messages, Charlie (<3) and Nick: 

Charlie:  I’m sorry if I complicated your coming out.  Also, I’m definitely not sorry for casting. 

Nick:  Naturally, my mother didn’t know, but…she thought it was karmic retribution and laughed, so…I can’t be mad at it <3

Charlie:  Again…sorry 

Nick:  The s-word again.  Twice in a row.  Stop it, please :)

Charlie:  Movies just make it seem like one big thing - and it’s either happy and done or awful and leads to life altering consequences.  Real life…is so messy.

Nick: It’s my fault for not telling him sooner. 

Charlie:  It is absolutely not your fault.  You shouldn’t have to tell him anything at all, if you don’t want to. 

Nick: I should probably tell my dad soon, before he does :( 

Charlie: No!  Take your time!  Honestly, I’ll curse him if he even thinks about it.

Nick:  You menace.  I do want my dad to know about you, though!  I want to be the one to tell him, not David…

Charlie:  Again, I feel like this is my fault…

Nick:  No!! Absolutely not!  Coming out is hard and complicated, right? It’s a messy series of events across one’s life…possibly even 100s of them.  I just want everyone to know who I am and know that you’re my boyfriend.  I know that not everyone will like that, but I simply don’t care!

Nick:  This might have been shitty, but I’m okay.  And…it is all definitely worth it, to be with you.

Charlie:  *photo sent*

Nick:  Ahhhh, there’s my beautiful, blushing boyfriend.  

Charlie:  So sappy <3

Nick:  I’ll keep you updated on David.  There’s a chance that he’ll head back to uni early now…mum sort of gave him an ultimatum on behavior.  Not that I’ll goad him into it, but…I know it won’t be hard for him NOT to be a total dick. 

Charlie:  Okay :)    I know that I’m going to miss you at school every day, so if I can’t hang out with you…gosh, I might just die.  

Nick:  We’ll just have to meet in the park or something…

Charlie:  It isn’t really easy to make out in the park though.  

Nick:  :O

Nick blushed, grinning as he looked at his phone screen.  He felt like the luckiest guy in the world, finding someone like Charlie.  He could not believe that in a little over a week, they would be off to Paris on their class trip.  It felt like an extended date almost.  His brain started to get those fuzzy feelings that he had felt a handful of days ago.  His mouth suddenly went a little dry.  He put his phone down, and took a deep breath, not wanting to over analyze what those feelings really meant, or why he had them.  He and Charlie had been together officially for…well, not long enough to be thinking about the things his brain suddenly wanted him to think about.  He groaned in frustration,  turned on his stomach, shoving his face into his pillow, and quietly screamed into his pillow a bit.  The school trip to Paris would absolutely be exciting, but also an absolute challenge in restraint.  Nick was starting to doubt whether or not he was up to that challenge.  

Chapter Text

A week had passed since Charlie’s iconic exit from the Nelson household.   Well, he at least liked to think it was an iconic exit.  Never before in his life had he called someone older than him a twat, so that really meant something.  Sometimes he wondered if discovering his power as a Caster had truly awakened other parts of him that had been lying under the rubble of his prior school year.  Nick and Charlie had rescheduled some of their after school meetings for the park in that week, avoiding both of their houses, especially Nick’s house.  David still had not gone back to uni, despite both Nick and his mother practically ignoring him since the fight.  Hanging out was still special, but not as special as hanging out and making out for an hour, and that wasn’t happening at the park.  

“I can’t believe we’re off to Paris so soon,” Charlie said, mooning over the upcoming trip.  He was pink in the face, his eyes dreamily gazing off into the sky, gazing at the clouds.  “It is just positively romantic.”  

“It is so nice…finally summer holiday has arrived, and the trip is a perfect start to it,” Nick replied, almost dozing off.  The heat had subsided a bit, but it was still unnaturally warm and muggy.  “Although, I’m not used to romantic Paris.  Can’t wait to experience that part,” he said, grinning as he reclined.  

“On that note, I have to pack more,” Charlie said.  Nick looked at him, utterly shocked.

“You have to pack more?  Haven’t you been packing on and off all week, in between revisions?  I have a hard time believing you aren’t done packing,” Nick said, completely doubtful.

“I just…need a few more finishing touches on my wardrobe,” Charlie stammered out before coming back more forcefully, “and I know for a fact that you haven’t packed much at all.  If anyone should be running home, it is you, Nicholas.”  He poked his boyfriend’s chest, playfully.  Nick blushed crimson, before his eyes narrowed a bit.

“Yeah, yeah…I know you heard my mum yelling at me about it.  I just couldn’t pass up the chance to loaf in the park with my beautiful, smart boyfriend,” he said, sticking out his tongue.

They playfully wrestled a bit with each other, which eventually devolved into some tickling.  Eventually, the executive decision was made to separate and head home for the much needed last-minute packing, before they lost complete control of themselves and actually did make out in the park.  Most of Charlie’s remaining decisions involved the jumpers, cardigans, and flannels he would be bringing to Paris with him.  His luggage space was limited, and these were key pieces of his everyday wardrobe, regardless of weather forecast.  He had settled on a color-blocked cardigan for the bus ride there, two different colored flannels for everyday wear, and two jumpers if it got especially chilly at night.  He had researched average highs and lows, so he knew there could be a temperature that required a jumper.  One thing, however, that he was incredibly indecisive about taking was the Dream Broome.  He eyed the floral arrangement nervously, almost as if it was some evil machination.  The first night, everything had worked flawlessly – no nightmares or semblances of a bad dream.  The second night, they were there again, but dimly, and then the third night, they had returned fully, vividly.  Charlie found this incredibly frustrating, the diminishing returns that the broome seemed to provide.  “Maybe I should just toss it out, or give it to dad,” he thought.  

Zipping up his suitcase, he went over to the wall to take the device down.  He reached to pull it off the wall, and then…his mind went blank.  The sensation was familiar, like the time he had pushed Ben into the wall at Harry’s party.  His eyes clamped shut, against his will, and then images began swirling in his mind.  This time, it felt incredibly different.  Nothing about the vision was familiar, and in fact, he could see himself in this vision, standing next to Nick, almost like he was viewing it from the third person.  His vision of Ben had been like that, too, but he at least knew the setting, and the people involved.  His first version ever had been first-person oriented.   Everything in this vision was dark.  Swirling dark clouds, hues of purple, indigo, and blue in a cavernous room.  Bones.  Bones everywhere.  He saw bones in the periphery of the vision, rattling, vibrating to a sinister tune.  Past visions were purely visual, but now auditory samples were slipping into them, too.  Some dirge-like music played in the background, somewhat familiar to Charlie, as if he had heard it before.  Sinister chanting and cackling filled in the gaps of the dirge.  In his other periphery, more animated bones, not just vibrating, but…moving?  Charlie started regaining his sense of being outside of the vision, and immediately withdrew his hand from the Dream Broome, cutting himself off from the vision. 

Charlie dove for his phone, immediately, bringing up his texts with Nick.  This was a problem.  A major problem.  

Messages, Nick (<3) and Charlie:

Charlie:  Grade A emergency.  We need to meet up tonight.  Mine, yours, park?  

Nick: I still need to pack more.  Is this actually an emergency, or is this a cry for making out?

Charlie:  One could say it’s a magical sort of emergency.

Nick: David left five minutes ago, come over ASAP.  I wasn’t lying about still needing to pack. 

Charlie picked up the Book, and ran down the stairs, shouting to his dad in the sitting room that he’d be at Nicks for a little bit, but back before curfew.  His dad just looked up at him and nodded.  The “boundaries” conversation had done wonders regarding the trust between the two of them, it appeared.  Hastily tying up the shoelaces on his favorite Converse, he peeled off toward Nick’s house at a breakneck speed.  By the time he had reached Nick’s front door, he was nearly breathless.  Knocking on the door gently, Sarah Nelson answered. 

“Oh, Charlie dear.  How wonderful to see you!  It has been a few days.  I hope it hasn’t been due to David,” she said, with a concerned tone in her voice.  

“I mean…sort of.  But also, I had plenty of exams to revise and sit for, so it all was for the best.  I’m just here to see Nick about something Paris related for a bit,” he said, his breath finally calming down enough to speak continuously without huffing.   Sarah Nelson smiled, nodded, and motioned for him to go upstairs.  Her eyes lingered on the Book for a little bit, but she did not inquire about it.   He launched upstairs, taking the steps two at a time, bolting into Nick’s room.  He laughed upon entering the room; it looked like a natural disaster zone, as Nick clearly had torn through half of his wardrobe looking for specific items to pack.  The mess just was a spectacle.

“Oh, that was fast,” Nick said.  He then looked at Charlie suspiciously.  “You wouldn’t happen to know the location of my blue tricolor jumper, my burgundy hoodie, or my goldenrod zip-up hoodie would you?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

Charlie smiled sheepishly.  “One is currently in my closet, and the other two are in a pile of dirty laundry,” he said.  “But, all that aside, something very important has come up.  Like…trip changing, possibly?”

Nick dropped what he was folding, and sat down on his bed, motioning for Charlie to come sit by him.  “Tell me everything, Char.”

Charlie swallowed nervously.  “I had a vision,” he said.  Nick’s eyes widened, and he motioned for him to continue.  “I don’t know where it took place, but both of us were there.  It was incredibly dark, and incredibly sinister.  There were dark, swirling clouds in the room.  I saw bones…dancing?  Vibrating?  Moving?  I don’t know how to verbalize it,” he said, frantically.

“Shh, it’s okay, Char.  I mean, you painted a bit of a picture there.  Sounds incredibly ominous,” he said.  

“That’s not all though, Nick.  I was seeing it from the third person, which means…well, I’m not quite sure what that means at this point.  And…I heard things, too,” he added in before trailing off to allow for Nick’s commentary.  

“Heard things?”  Nick asked, his voice wavering, almost frightened.  “You hadn’t heard things before, have you?” 

Charlie shook his head.  He certainly had not heard anything before, and why he was now receiving audio to accompany his visions was now another mystery, one that he did not feel comfortable picking apart with Nick at this time.  He was trying to focus on remembering what he had heard, attempting to see if he could pick out any specific words, phrases, or notes.  

“I don’t think I could recount what exactly it was.  I heard what appeared to be a dirge of sorts, funeral music, you know?” he said.  Nick certainly was not musically inclined, so he figured he should clarify before any confusion arose.  Nick nodded his head, and Charlie continued.  

“So yeah, I heard what I’d consider a dirge at first…and then chanting?  But I could not tell what it was.  It was not English or Spanish, it did not sound French, and in fact…I don’t even think it was Latin.  And then cackling sort of overpowered the chanting,” he said.  “And then…it cut out.”  

“There was nothing more?” Nick asked.  Charlie just shook his head.  Nick fidgeted a bit, making a face that communicated his concern, confusion, and the complication that this new revelation brought to them.  “Do you think…this has anything to do with Paris?  Like…is the reason why the setting is so unfamiliar something to do with the fact that it doesn’t take place in the UK?”  he asked.

Charlie paused for a minute.  He was glad that he had rushed over to talk this over with Nick, because his own anxiety surrounding this vision would have prevented him from logically picking it apart.  Nick helped ground him, and naturally asked questions that allowed for a more critical analysis of the situation.  Charlie nodded his head.  “Yeah, Nick.  I think this might have everything to do with Paris,” he said with a serious tone in his voice.  

Nick gave him a hug, gripping him tightly.  “We will figure this out, together, Char.  Perhaps for safety purposes…we should bring the Book on the trip with us?” he suggested, anxiously. 

Charlie looked at him, unsure.  It was a big risk, taking the Book with them.  They risked it being seen, or read by their peers, or even worse, Isaac or Tao.  But if the vision truly did involve something that would happen in Paris, not bringing the Book would be like walking into a dangerous situation without any knowledge base to prepare for it, to mitigate its risks, or to fight against it.  Without it, they could be doomed, with it, they risked being exposed to their friends, and the fallout from that.  They would have to be incredibly careful either way.

“We’re bringing it, Nick.  I’d rather not die at 15 from something evil in Paris,” he said. 

Nick gave him a gentle kiss.  “I won’t let you die, Char.  No darkness will harm you,” he said, gripping his boyfriend tightly.  

“I know you have to pack more, but could you do me a favor and kiss me a bit more…it feels like it has been ages,” Charlie said, quietly, his body still pressed up against Nick’s in a tight hug.  

“Okay, I can’t argue with that,” Nick said.

And so they did, for 5 or so minutes.  Charlie felt hungry for this, as it had been days since they got a proper snog session in, due to David’s petulant presence in the household.  Charlie felt rather uncomfortable with having Nick over his place, still, despite his father’s reassurance that it was okay “as long as the door was open.”  Internally, Charlie felt like fireworks were going off.  Not that it was any different than normal, as he always felt special when kissing Nick, but it just felt even more intense recently.  He had to cut himself off, because it felt like he was on the verge of losing control of himself.  Naturally, he would tell himself that it was because Nick still had gratuitous amounts of packing to do, and that he needed to get some rest, but he really knew that there was much more going on to this.  He was just much too embarrassed to think about it too much or even talk about it…with anyone.  They separated, said goodbyes, and Charlie headed home, the Book in tow.  His dad was waiting up for him, on the front porch, a concerned look on his face.  

“Care to tell me why a late night rendezvous at Nick’s house, with the Book , was necessary?” he asked, unable to hide the extremely concerned tone in his voice.

Charlie bit his lip, unsure what to do.  “I mean…not really.  But, since you are waiting on the porch for me, I’m going to assume that I won’t get back inside without saying something,” he said, calmly.

His father raised an eyebrow.  “No need to be cheeky, young man,” he said. 

Charlie sighed, plopping down on the steps next to his father.  “Fine.  But promise me that you won’t freak out over what I’m about to tell you,” he said.  His father nodded slowly, motioning for his son to continue.  “I had a vision earlier, one that might take place in Paris.  Heavy emphasis on the might,” he said, voice quieting as he began explaining the situation. 

“And what brought upon this vision, Charlie?” his father asked.  Charlie had not thought about what that could mean.

“I touched the Dream Broome,” he said, trying to piece together what the significance of the broome could be.  He had seriously not considered the implications of the vision originating from it.   “What does that mean, dad?” he asked, worried.

His father replied, “Is the broome working for you?  Or are things about the same?”

Charlie shook his head.  “At first, it seemed to work…and then my dreams slinked back in over a day or two,” he said, frustrated.  

His father nodded, as if he was thinking over how it all fit together.  They sat there in silence for a minute or two before he replied to his son, “I think…you are seeing someone else’s vision.  If the broome is doing little to nothing for you…yet you are seeing this vision when you touch it.  That’s the only logical explanation, in my mind.”

Charlie looked at his father, who looked incredibly worried.  “So…what you’re saying is that the broome is basically a telly antenna, cell phone tower, etc., and it has picked up someone else’s channel or signal?”  he asked.  His father simply nodded his head in response.  

Julio Spring turned to his son, putting a hand on his shoulder to calm him.  “Listen, Charlie.  You don’t have to tell me every detail about the vision.  Just please…don’t do anything rash in Paris.  Promise me that.  Promise me you won’t go looking for trouble,” he practically begged his son. 

Charlie nodded.  “I mean…I won’t go looking for trouble, but…I think that there’s a chance that it will find me, dad.  I promise that I’ll message you if things happen.  I just don’t want this trip to be ruined.  I’ve been looking forward to it for ages!”  he practically groaned as he finished the last statement.  

His father smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder.  “Uh…I also, well, I know I already brought it up, but just to reinforce things, since you’ll be basically alone in a foreign country with your boyfriend…but also be safe and don’t do anything rash in regards to that, too,” he said, his tone quite awkward, borderline mortified.   It was good to see that he could make his dad feel slightly uncomfortable about things that definitely made him wildly uncomfortable to talk about.  

Charlie put his head in his hands, blushing crimson.  “Please, dad, please.  Can we stop bringing this up at every moment?  I’m not lying to you…we literally have not even talked about sex.  In fact, when I mentioned that you talked to me about it, Nick was super embarrassed.  He literally just figured out that he even likes guys, that he’s bisexual, and that we fit together.  Our relationship is still growing, and…he’s definitely not ready.  I’m definitely not ready.  Neither of us are ready,” he groaned out, his hands covering his eyes.  

His dad smiled a bit.  “I…believe you.  I just remember being a teen, and know how things can go.  I know things are a bit different, uh…when it concerns two guys,” he said, awkwardly. “I just want to make sure you are comfortable talking to me about it, that is all.”  

Charlie did not reply, but sat there in silence, just thinking.  The more he thought about his dad, the more he realized that he should perhaps consider himself lucky that his father even was willing to have this conversation with him.  The gay experience truly ran the gamut, but so many people had shared things about their frayed relationships with parents, or the barriers that their queerness put between them and their parents.  So he just sat there, quietly thinking, and feeling.  Feeling gratitude.  

The two of them sat there in silence for a few minutes before his dad motioned for them to go back inside.  He hugged Charlie, and said goodnight.  Charlie headed upstairs, the Book in tow.  Somehow, he would figure out how to cram it into his suitcase, even if it meant removing a jumper or pair of skinny jeans.  Glancing up at the wall, he looked at the Dream Broome, hanging innocently on the nail there, the colorful array of flowers looking fresh and beautiful.  That was the humorous irony of the broome.  Something so gorgeous had managed to bring about something so fearful, something so dark.  He sat down on his bed, his mind racing with thoughts, the chief of which most certainly was, “Who on Earth is having dreams about me?” Which naturally led to, “Where are they? And why am I intercepting them?”  Charlie took a deep breath, trying to chase these thoughts out of his head.  The more he thought about them, the deeper his desire to figure it out became.  He knew if that happened, if he reached a point where his curiosity could not be squashed, he would definitely end up breaking his promise to his father.  He would most certainly end up looking for trouble. 

Chapter Text

Coach trips to Paris had to leave at an ungodly hour to reach their destination at a sufficient time to still enjoy the day, or that’s what Mr. Ajayi had told the parents at the trip presentation.  In this case, 7 AM was definitely considered ungodly to the teenagers filing toward the parked coach.  The trip between Kent and Paris took approximately 5 hours, depending on the Chunnel, customs personnel, and various other factors.  It was perfect to leave at 7 AM and arrive in Paris for lunch, or déjeuner, as the French would say.  Street crêpes, des sandwiches Parisiens, pain au chocolat,  and a wide array of other delectable delicacies awaited the Truham and Higgs students.  It was 6:50, and many of them were certainly cutting it close, sleepily shifting their feet toward Mr. Farouk and Mr. Ajayi to check in.  

Charlie hugged his parents goodbye.  Naturally they were worried about him, his father more so than his mother, as Mr. Spring knew that things in Paris could be quite…complicated.   Nick hugged and then waved goodbye to his mother, who hurried over to talk to the Springs.  Tara and Darcy had just exited a group hug with Mr. and Mrs. Jones, and made their way over to the coach.  Darcy had stayed the night with them to avoid any fraught interactions with mother and father Olsson.  She wanted nothing to ruin her trip to Paris.   Isaac waved goodbye to his father.  Mr. Henderson always worried about his son, who seemed more interested in books than actual people.  Isaac, his book about Paris in hand, walked off toward the coach.  Elle Argent spent one last minute with her parents, making sure to repeat over and over again that she would stay with her friends, go only in public places, and be incredibly safe.  Yan Xu, who had just hugged Tao goodbye, went over to talk with the Argents;  Tao had already picked up on this, but Elle was probably her favorite person in the entire universe, probably even more so than him. 

They all filed onto the coach, finding seats in proximity to each other.  Tara and Darcy snuggled up on the right side, with Elle and Sahar sharing a seat, chatting softly in the early morning light.  Tao blushed as he saw how radiant Elle looked in the early morning sunrise.  He plopped down next to Isaac, who was sitting enough rows ahead of Elle that Tao would not be tempted to furtively glance back.  Nick and Charlie were sitting in front of them, already starting to get cozy in their seats.  They had a few more minutes to go, as people were still arriving and climbing aboard. Unfortunately, one of those people happened to be Harry Greene.  As he walked down the pathway between the rows of seats, each of the pairs stared at him anxiously, for a combination of different reasons. 

Truman-Higgs Queer Alliance + Allies (Tao):

Charlie: I did not realize that Harry Greene was coming on this trip…

Darcy: Totally awks *turtle emojis*

Nick:  I’m sure it will be fine.  He’s ignored us since the whole cinema thing…

Tao:  Cinema thing?  Now you’ve got my attention. 

Nick:  Oh, I forgot I never brought that up…

Charlie:  He decked Harry at the cinema back in early May, before his whole hospitalization thing…walloped him.

Isaac:  How did that get started? I mean, I can only imagine. 

Elle: Honestly, the number -phobics I could use to describe Harry with …I’m certain it has to do with one of them.

Nick:  Most certainly.  He was being a homophobic POS about Charlie, so I…beat him up.

Elle:  OMG

Isaac:  A literal hot white knight.  You both keep feeding my future fiction writing career.  

Tara:  I’m pretty sure whatever you come up with, Isaac, will end up being the sappiest thing ever.  

Darcy:  Unless he adapts it for smut. I can totally see him doing that, tbh

Tara:  DARCY!

Elle:  :O 

Tao:  Oh my god it is too early for that.

Charlie:  :O *blushing emoji*

Nick:  ;-) 

Tao:  I may be officially blocking you all at some point.

Isaac:   Whatever sells best, I guess :P

Messages, Nick (<3) and Charlie:

Charlie:  Care to explain that winky face, sir?  

Nick:  I…I was just riling up Isaac a bit *blushing emoji*

Charlie:  Sure…sure you were :P

Nick: *blushing emoji* <3 <3 <3

Charlie:  But on a serious note…should we be concerned about Harry being on this trip?

Nick:  Nah, I think it is fine.  From what Sai told me…he was completely unaware of everything in the hospital.

Charlie:  I suppose that’s good, but what if he somehow starts remembering things?
Nick: Well…then we can go from there, I guess?  

Charlie:  I have been super anxious about this possibility for weeks now.

Nick:  :( 

Charlie:  Yeah…just another one of those stressors.  I’m sure he’ll leave us alone though.  Probably afraid of you punching him again. 

Nick:  Hey!  I don’t usually go around punching people, ya know?  

Charlie:  Only for me.  I wish I could have seen you do it, though…what a satisfying moment it would be. 

Nick:  Always a menace.  Always.

Charlie *kissing emoji*

Messages, Tao and Isaac:

Tao:  Not to be conspiratorial, but we need to come up with some strategy to make sure they’re not sharing a bed on this trip. 

Isaac:  What would be so wrong with them sharing a bed?  They are dating, afterall…

Tao:  Isaac!  What if they…you know…did things?

Isaac:   Oh stop.  They’ve literally just started dating.  Perhaps we don’t get in the way, or at least set some boundaries with them.  I’m sure, as awkward as it could be, it would be fine.

Tao:  Ugh, no.  Too awkward.

Isaac:  Fine then, I’ll have that talk with them.  I’m not ruining their first couple’s trip by being a prude.

Messages, Elle and Tao:

Elle:  You look incredibly conspiratorial.  What are you doing?

Tao:  Nothing.  Nothing at all, Ms. Argent.  

Elle:  I do not believe you, at all. 

Tao:  If you so desperately need to know, I am trying to convince Isaac that we need to make sure that the lovebirds don’t share a bed in our room. 

Elle:  You always *have* to get involved somehow, don’t you, King of Getting Involved?

Tao:  But…I am just a concerned citizen…I don’t want my hotel room turning into the Moulin Rouge.

Elle:  You are utterly ridiculous.  Just be mature and set some boundaries.  

Tao:  God, are you and Isaac crowdsourcing a brain this morning?  

Elle:  Mature people think alike, sometimes ;-P

By the time all of the text message exchanges had gone through, Harry Greene had already settled farther back on the coach, surrounded by several of his laddish friends who had come on the trip.  Their sole purpose of the trip was to “meet hot French girls,” or so they had overheard them saying at the meeting.  Gross .  Finally, the trickle of students came to an end, and everyone had settled in.  Mr. Ajayi got up to address the group and take the register, but his quiet morning voice was not enough to get everyone’s attention over the superfluous and excited chatter coming from the students.  Mr. Farouk, on the other hand, boomed out “QUIET!” projecting his voice from the front of the coach all the way to the back, getting everyone’s attention to take the register.  In a matter of minutes, they would be on their way to Paris, the City of Lights, the City of Love, and in the back of Charlie’s mind, quite possibly the City of the Dead, too. 

Chapter Text

As much as Tori Spring would enjoy going to Paris, she highly valued her sleep, so she convinced herself, and her brother, that she thought Paris was boring.  She had heard time and time again about how romantic the city was.  Romantic .  Tori did not really have time for that, right now.  Not yet, at least.  Life was changing in unpredictable ways, and Tori did not want to get swept up in the “magic” of Paris.  What she did want to get swept up in, was actual magic, however, but to do that required her to haul out of bed.  Scientifically, they say teens should have roughly 10 hours of sleep every night, but 9.5 hours would certainly suffice.  Her brother had left earlier that morning on the school trip, so she had no reason to cautiously enter his room, and could unceremoniously dig under his bed for the Book instead of gently searching for it.  Although, honestly, it was as much hers as it was his.  Pushing the door open, she got down on the floor, and reached under the bed.  Nothing .  It was gone.   “Crap,” she thought to herself.  

Tori felt particularly frustrated about this because things were happening to her that she did not quite understand.  Truth be told, she really could not describe them well, either.  Initially she thought it was teenage hormones and her usual angst, but this was something different, entirely.  It was not constant, but came in little spurts here and there, especially when she was in close proximity to people.  Things just suddenly became…intense.  Intense in a lot of different ways, depending on the situation.  For example, she had been doing schoolwork at a friend’s house the week before school ended.  Normally, she would most solo-revise because, well, she hated most people, especially in academic settings.  Her friend Becky had insisted that they invite another girl in their class who was well known for being pretty good at the subject.  Half of the revision session devolved into a discussion about the other girl’s boyfriend and a fight they recently had.  It was…annoying, to say the least.  

The odd piece about this situation was obviously not Tori’s annoyance at the other girl and her relationship issues, but rather, how Tori felt farther into the conversation about the situation.  At one point, the other girl ended up completely losing it a bit, breaking down, and crying.  Again, normally, Tori would at best be totally uncomfortable with this situation.  A person she barely knew, bawling in front of her?  Ick .  Not for her.  She could handle this with close friends and family, hell, she was a regular listener and comforter for her brother.  This is where the abnormality struck.  Just when she thought she was about to tap out and leave, she felt this tugging sensation in her brain.  Suddenly, a deeply sad melancholic feeling washed over her, to the point that she was close to crying.  Tori only rarely cried, so rarely that she barely even cried at her own Abuela’s funeral.  It felt like her whole world was ending, and that she would not be able to bear it.  Just as a solitary tear began to leave her left eye, the feeling diminished greatly.

More and more, Tori thought about it and realized that she had experienced several similar situations on and off since January, to the point that she could almost count on both hands.  The grumpy field hockey girl, slamming her fist into her locker after finding out that she had been suspended from the team for academic dishonesty.  She felt that blaring rage, almost instantly, as if her mother had said something particularly stupid and hurtful, as usual.  The brunette in form that sat behind her, who found out that her best friend had gone on a date with a guy that she had fancied last year.  The jealousy was so intense, that Tori herself had thought that she would be sick on the spot.  They really were not kidding when they said things like “green with envy.”  The couple she had spotted behind the sports shed at the Truham-Higgs sports day, oblivious to the fact that people could see exactly what they were doing.  She had felt that, all of those associated feelings.  Despite it being considered some holy grail of teenage experience, Tori had no desire to partake in anything like that, so the fact that she somehow managed to, against her will, vicariously experience those feelings was beyond disgusting.

Indeed that was the fascinating aspect of all of this, was it not?  Second-hand feelings.  The more Tori thought about these situations, that’s the best way she could describe the sensation.  Somehow, she could acutely perceive exactly what these people were feeling, for short bursts of time, seemingly against her will.  While she may have been familiar with feelings of anger and jealousy, she definitely was not familiar with lust.  These were not her emotions, yet she felt them nonetheless, at the same intensity as those who originated them.  Which brought her back to the present, and her futile quest for the Book.  There had to be some sort of explanation in the Book, or some sort of incantation that could help her ward off these second-hand feelings.  These invasive emotions.  They had casted an incantation on flowers to make them block bad dreams, surely something could be done for her.  Frustrated, she groaned and stamped out of the room and back to hers, diving face first back into her bed.  

Normally, serious conversations with her parents were not something that Tori openly elected to do, especially with her mother.  Any sort of serious conversation with Jane Spring required the desire to hug a cactus, as that was exactly what it would feel like.  Prickly.  Recently, her rapport with her father had certainly improved, and given that he had a considerable magical knowledge base, a conversation with him sounded like the best option.  Realistically, the only option.   Both of her parents had just gotten back from dropping off Charlie at the bus stop and running some early morning errands, her mom now re-organizing the kitchen cabinets, her father looking through his filing cabinets in his office.  Tori knocked on the office door lightly.

Her father looked up at her surprised to see her out of bed and out of her room.  “What do I owe this early morning visit, Victoria?” he asked, grinning.

“Well, father.  I seem to be having some sort of feminine issue,” she said, purposefully lying to mess with her father.  It seemingly worked, as he turned pink.  “I’m kidding, dad,” she said, not wanting him to turn her away. 

“I was about to send you to your mother.  In all seriousness, what’s going on?” he said, cautiously,

“Well.  Something magical, but I don’t know what it is, or why it is happening,” Tori said, following it up with, “and I can’t even look into it, because Charlie took the Book with him to Paris!”  

Her father frowned.  “I was afraid he would do that.  Although given what he told me last night, I am not surprised.  That’s another conversation entirely, however.  What’s troubling you?”

Tori paused, thinking about how to best word this.  “Well, I’m feeling things,” she said.  

Her father looked at her, “I understand that usually the default is disdain, but I’m not sure feeling things constitutes a magical crisis, Tori,” he said, raising his left eyebrow slightly.  Was she annoying him with this?

Tori scrunched her mouth up.  That certainly was not how she wanted to start this conversation.  “What I meant to say, really…is that I’m feeling…other people’s feelings? If that makes any sense?  Like, second-hand feelings?”  she said, her voice belaying how uncertain she even was.   This got her father’s attention. 

“Oh.  Okay, that’s a bit…unusual.  Can you provide me with some examples that you feel best demonstrate this?”  he asked, his voice now lower and guarded.  

Tori described the various situations that had occurred over the past few weeks and months, except she significantly toned down the Sports Day sports shed incident example.  She could tell that her father was taking this seriously now, the gears in his brain turning nearly at top speed, almost as if he was inventorying photographic memories of the Book and other magical knowledge.  He sat there quietly for several minutes, thinking things over, mumbling to himself details that she had recounted from different examples.  He started nervously fiddling with a pen at one point, which only added to the anxiety the whole situation was giving Tori.  Did he not know what was going on?  Or was Tori some novel situation never encountered before?  The suspense was tearing her apart, and that was not the only thing, either.  As time dragged on, Tori started feeling an intensely concentrated feeling, like someone was focusing so hard that it physically hurt.  Focused, yet frantic.  It was happening again.  

“Dad, you’re thinking so intensely that I’m literally feeling it,” she said, struggling.  “It is literally physically painful.” 

Her father snapped out of his highly focused state, looking at his daughter bewildered.  “It happened again? “ he asked, concerned.  “Just now?” 

She nodded her head.  “Did that brain wracking session yield any answers, or is this something we won’t figure out without the Book?” she asked, wincing at the after effects of the latest episode.  

Her father shook his head, and shrugged his shoulders.  “Honestly, Tori…I can’t think of a single thing that best describes this beyond what you’ve told me.  It could very well be magical.  A curse or affliction?  Doubtful.  On the other hand, this could be your power as a Caster,” he said, stroking his chin, as if to ponder the possibilities further. 

Tori blinked, rapidly, and swallowed heavily.  “So…I’m doomed to feel other peoples’ feelings for the rest of my life?  I need a lemonade,” she said, gloomily.  

Her father grabbed her arm quickly, before she could make a dramatic exit.  “Now, hold on sweetheart.  This isn’t necessarily a bad thing.  There are always ways to manage your powers. I mean, look at me.  I eventually got things under control.  And think of the good here.  Not that you have difficulty telling when people are lying or utterly full of it, but this just adds another layer to it…now you can really feel their emotions,” he said, voice hopeful.  He was desperately trying to convince her of the pros to this.  

“Is there no way to block a power, or turn it off?  I don’t think I want to feel others' feelings, dad,” she said, sighing.  

“From one Spring with “unfortunate” powers to another…trust me when I tell you that I’ve searched and tried, almost endlessly, Tori.  From what I found, the only way is to basically strip yourself of all magic…and the consequences of that are not very well accounted for, that it can’t even be considered an option.  The safest way is not running from it, but rather accepting your reality, learning to live with it, and not allowing it to control you.  It is the safest, but the most difficult way forward,” he said, frowning slightly, before bringing his daughter in for a hug.  

Gripping her father tightly, Tori breathed shallowly, trying not to panic.  “How do I do that, dad?  How?” 

“Time and experience, coupled with experiments.  There’s not one straightforward method to do anything magical.  Just know that I can help you, but you also have to work through things on your own.  My best advice would be to take note of when things happen, and if there’s anything you or the person does that changes things.  For example, if I had continued to stay focused, but you had decided to do some deep breathing, could that help control how much of the intensity you felt,” he said, continuing with, “I only offer that up, because that’s one of the first things I tried to control my powers.”  

“So basically…I need a self help book on how to relax,” Tori said.  Her father laughed.

“There’s my sarcastic Tori.  I mean, I guess you could think of it that way.  I told Charlie the same thing…sometimes the best solutions are not magical, but the ordinary,” her father said, smiling.  Tori just nodded her head, hugged her father quickly again, and then waved goodbye, exiting his office.  That was enough emotion for the day, and there was a diet lemonade waiting for her down in the fridge.  

Somewhere in the middle of the Chunnel, Darcy Olsson had no lemonade to drink, and absolutely no snacks to munch on during the long bus ride.  Tara had packed some snacks earlier, but she had only brought so much that they were specifically rationed out across the first few days of the trip, with the understanding that they would thoroughly enjoy French food and stock up on French snacks before they returned to the UK.  Tara had been reading and she had fallen asleep for the first two hours of the trip, but now that breakfast had worn off, she awoke grumpily.  Darcy had brought a small backpack with her to lug around the city, to carry essentials throughout the day.  She pulled it out from under her seat, deciding to give it a thorough comb through, just to make sure she had not left any snacks in there from the last time she used the bag.  Probably a bit gross, but she was desperate.  Tara glanced up at her from over the top of her book.

“I told you that you’d get hungry and want snacks.  Yet you refused to bring any,” she said, arching her eyebrows.  

“Ugh, don’t remind me.  Are you sure you can’t spare any from your larder, Jonesy?”  she asked, almost begging.  

Tara shook her head.  “ I have it all planned out, Darcy.  You know this.  I was going to open some up once we got out of the Chunnel, but that might not be for another 30 minutes to an hour,” she said. She gave Darcy a look that really communicated “don’t challenge the snack schedule.”  

Darcy simply groaned, and Tara went back to reading her book.  Not one easily put off, Darcy looked over at the others.  Nick and Charlie were asleep, Nick’s head on Charlie’s shoulder.  Disgustingly cute, and super gay.  No snacks possible.  Next target.   Isaac was reading, and was snacking on some carrot sticks.  Too healthy and too absorbed to notice my pleas.  Pass.  Tao had his headphones in and was completely zoned out.  Nope .    Elle was deep in conversation with Sahar about something artsy.  Perhaps this was her opportunity for snacks. Leaning forward, she tapped Elle’s shoulder.  

“Elle, darling.  I know you have snacks.  Right?  Right?? Care to share, please?  I am feeling oh so peckish.  Please? Pleeeeaase?” she begged, finishing her request in a sing songy voice. 

Elle laughed, bemused by Darcy’s begging for snacks.  “My mom purposefully refused to give me snacks because she knew Paris would be snack opportunity after snack opportunity.  That and she didn’t want me leaving behind any of her nice snapware,” she said, chuckling.  “Personally, I’m waiting to get my hands on a fresh croissant and pain au chocolat when we arrive.”  

Sahar laughed, and nodded.  “I am so excited for those, too.  I just want to eat some croissants and sip some café au lait,” she said, sighing at the blissful idea.  

Darcy groaned.  “Ugh, neither of you are helping.  Now my stomach is positively angrily growling for something,” she said, tilting her head back against her headrest, frustrated.  

Both Elle and Sahar just laughed and shrugged, turning back into their conversation, which was now peppered with comments about Michelin Stars, French cuisine, and the profound cultural implications of separating boulangeries and patisseries.  Darcy clutched her backpack, tuning out their conversation as best as possible.  They would drive her stark mad if she listened in.  Closing her eyes, she thought about all the snacks she could possibly want, right at this moment.  Crisps, preferably a sour-cream and chive flavor, or some cheesy poof balls, any kind really, as long as it left a small layer of fake cheese particles on her fingers.   Perhaps a can of soda, to accompany?  Did not really matter which flavor, but carbonated sugar water made salty snacks go down seamlessly.  Her mind simply raced with all of the possibilities, the endless snacking possibilities.  She squeezed her bag, holding on for dear life at this point, and then she heard it.  Crunch .  Darcy opened her eyes.  What had made that sound in her bag?   She had literally just examined its contents several minutes ago.  

Gingerly, she opened her bag, almost afraid to search its contents.  This was the third time in the past few weeks that something exactly like this had happened.  Reaching her hand into the bag, slowly, she fished around until her hand brushed up against a small, plastic bag which crinkled under her touch.  Darcy shuddered.  Was she going absolutely mad? Once was an odd occurrence, twice merely a coincidence, but a third time, well that constituted a pattern.  That’s at least what their science teacher had said repeatedly last year.  Something about the rule of triplicates, blah blah.  This fit that rule, however.  Three times now, almost as if some genie was fulfilling minor wishes, her desires or wishes had been granted.  She had not even pulled the item out of her bag, and she knew it had to be a bag of crisps.  Hesitantly, she started to move the small bag out into the open.  Sour-cream and chive crisps.  Just as she had hoped. Her brain just could not comprehend what was happening.  She thought about social media queens and their whole “manifest it,” content moments.  Manifest it. Her thoughts were soon interrupted by Tara, who had just looked up from her reading. 

“So you actually have some snacks after all, huh?” her girlfriend asked, suspiciously.  “I can’t believe you were trying to deplete the larder!”  

“I swear I did not have these a minute ago,” Darcy said, softly.  She figured Tara would either not believe her, or simply think she had lost it a bit.  “I mean, you saw me check my bag.”

Tara simply looked at her, softly.  “I think you probably just overlooked it, Darcy.  I know you can get a bit…disheveled when hungry,” she said, smiling.  

Darcy smiled, thankful for her understanding girlfriend.  “You know me and my stomach so well, Jonesy.  So well,” she said.  

Darcy sat back in her seat, the bag of crisps opened, slowly savoring them.  How were these things happening?  She continued thinking about the past two weeks, and how three times now, things had simply just appeared after she thought about them.  Different contexts each time, but all it took was some thought and longing and poof…they appeared.  Darcy thought back into the past.  Maybe it had happened then, too?  Over the past few months, a few similar situations had happened, too, but definitely not as frequent.  Popping another crisp in her mouth, she remembered when she first really noticed it, sometime in late January. Before then, maybe an odd one-off occasion?  It was simply all just curious.  So curious, it almost felt…magical.  She leaned back in her seat, smiling.  The rest of the ride to Paris suddenly felt much more bearable. 

Chapter Text

Delays at customs had led to an extra hour on the coach, and needless to say, nearly all of the passengers felt cranky about it.  At that point, check in had already begun at their hotel, so the coach dropped them off there, first.  The building looked very typically Parisian, its stories limited so as not to overshadow Notre Dame de Paris.  Located in the 10th arrondissement, near the Canal Saint-Martin, the grand building in Napoleon III Style still retained that classic facade over 150 years later.  Despite the regal, aged exterior, the hotel had curated a more modern interior that thankfully included small elevators.   Charlie had read in a guidebook that a lot of older buildings in Paris had lacked elevators, requiring quite the haul for many tourists.  Thankfully, Mr. Farouk had handed Tao and them a key for a room on the fourth floor, so even if the elevators were out of service, it would not be that bad.  Room 414 - that felt auspicious.  

He and Nick were first to exit the elevator, searching for the room.  It was not too far away from some retro-looking vending machines in a small alcove.  Charlie eyed the alcove, taking note of the small private space by the machines.  He turned to look at Nick briefly and noticed that he, too, was taking note of the alcove.  They both were utterly unbelievable;  if Nick was examining that space for the same reason, it would not surprise him at all.  He made a mental note to check-in with Nick about the vending machine alcove later.  Tao squeezed by just as they had found the room,  and unlocked the door, swinging it open.  The room appeared to be a bit on the smaller side, with a window facing toward the canal, a single bathroom en suite, and two queen sized beds.  Two beds.  For whatever reason, neither he, nor Nick had put together that they would have to share beds.  He, Nick, Tao, and Isaac had all piled into the room and had stopped to stare for a minute at the room, overthinking the bed situation.  

Immediately Tao spoke up.  “Well, I think that Isaac and Charlie should share a bed, and I’ll keep Mr. Nelson company at night,” he said, clearing his throat a little bit. 

Isaac rolled his eyes and immediately protested.  “Tao, stop being so weird about it,” he said, turning to Nick and Charlie, “Can you believe he tried to talk me into some sort of conspiracy to make sure you couldn’t share a bed?”

Tao let out a shocked groan.  “Isaac, I told you that in confidence!” he said, feigning being appalled. 

Nick chimed in, not wanting the situation to get too awkward.  “That’s really fine, Tao.  I wouldn’t want to make either of you uncomfortable.  I know Charlie and I are too hot to handle,” he said, a huge grin appearing on his face.  

Tao just stood there, blinking, his face totally blank.  Isaac, on the other hand, immediately started cackling madly before he said, “I just know we’re going to have a blast…oh man.”  He could hardly breathe.  

Charlie looked positively frustrated at Tao, and mildly upset at Nick for giving up so easily. 

Not soon after “resolving” the bed sharing issue, a series of loud knocks were heard on the door.  Tara was shouting from the hallway for Isaac, since she still had his phone charger.  She opened the door quickly, not even waiting for much of an answer. 

“Wow, your room is tiny,” she said in simple observance.  

Darcy noticed the two beds and smirked.  “Let me guess, Tao has boyf-proofed the bed sharing situation, based on the absolute air of awkwardness in here?”  

Isaac laughed again.  “You are too much sometimes, Darcy,” he said.  Darcy smirked again.  

“You should all come see our room.  It is massive in comparison,” she said, pulling Isaac with her.  Tara motioned for Tao, Charlie, and Nick to follow.  

Tao hesitated, asking, “You’re sharing with Elle, right?  She’s there?”  Tara just nodded and giggled.  

“Come on, silly.  She won’t bite,” she said.  

Charlie went to the door, as if he was going to follow them out, but then silently closed it behind Tao.  Turning to Nick, he frowned a little bit, and then went and plopped down on the bed, letting out a sigh.  Nick sat down next to him.  

“I wanted to share with you,” Charlie whined softly.  

“Same.  We’ll get to do it, one day,” Nick said, turning pink immediately at his word choice.  “I mean not “do it,” but share a bed!  Oof that came out all wrong.” 

He had transitioned from pink to tomato red.  Charlie started chuckling, placing his head on Nick’s shoulder.  Their own natural awkwardness had turned a relatively innocuous situation about bed sharing into one with sexual overtones in a near instant.  As soon as he recovered enough from the chuckle, Charlie could not wait to add fuel to the fire. 

“I can’t wait to do it with you one day,” he said, blushing, looking at Nick, his eyes almost hungry. 

Nick’s eyes immediately got wide, his tomato red face somehow intensifying even redder.  All he could say was, “Y-yeah.”  

Even if he had wanted to get any other words in, Charlie decided to give him no opportunity to do so.  Immediately he pulled on Nick’s hoodie strings, pulling his face closer to his while simultaneously craning his neck a bit, so they could share a kiss.  Their first Parisian kiss.  Charlie wanted to savor this moment, and perhaps make it more than just a short moment.  He felt like he had been cut off from oxygen over the past week, since he and Nick had not seen each other very much due to David’s interference.  Drawing his other hand behind Nick’s neck, he pulled Nick in for an even deeper kiss, this time, a French kiss.   Not that such a thing was new to them, but it simply felt incredibly location appropriate.  By this time, Nick’s hands had started to wander on Charlie, one to Charlie’s lower back, the other to his neck and shoulders, as if he was physically attempting to pull Charlie on top of him.  Charlie was almost about to let him do just that, when they heard the door clicking open.  Suddenly, Darcy burst into the room.

“Nick and Charlie, are you two coming, or…” she said, stopping as soon as she saw them. 

Nick, who had only just returned to a pale shade of pink from the whole “bed sharing” situation, suddenly turned his signature crimson.  Charlie, pink from the intensity of their kisses, turned to look at Darcy, a deadpan and annoyed look on his face.  

“Oh, you’re being gay.  Good job. Carry on, then,” she said, going to close the door.  Isaac, who was with her, silently grinned and gave them both the thumbs up before they turned to leave, probably taking mental notes for his future writing career.  

Charlie just groaned.  “I have a sense that this will be a major problem for us.  Isolated to this trip, hopefully,” he said.  

Nick chuckled.  “I mean, we do tend to pick some riskier places to kiss,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.   “It will be better whenever David leaves for uni.”  

Charlie sighed.  “God, I certainly hope so.  I feel like I’ve been deprived the past week, if you couldn’t tell.”   He looked sheepishly at Nick, who blushed some more.  

“Ummm, yeah.  I sort of picked up on that a bit, Char,” he said softly.

Charlie poked him a bit in the chest.  “Don’t be shy, I could sense the same from you…I felt like you were about to, um, pull me on top of you?” he said, raising his voice and turning the last part into a question.  In case he was dead wrong, he had to give Nick some room to refute him without it being incredibly awkward.  Nick immediately turned very bright red, again. 

“So I’m not wrong then, I see.” 

Nick just huffed, clearly embarrassed.  “Uh, mm, well, you see…” he paused, clearly trying to get himself together mentally.  “Yeah.  That’s exactly what I was trying to do,” he said. 

Charlie pulled him in for a quick kiss.  “Well, at the risk of getting caught again…let’s try that again, another time,” he said with a devilish look in his eyes.   Nick just blinked and gulped.  

Before anything else could be said, the door swung open again, with Tara entering the room this time.   “We’re going to walk around a little bit before dinner, come join us, you two!  You’ll have time to make out later!” she said, chiding them.  

Both of them laughed, and hopped off of the bed, and headed out.  Charlie had taken the key from Tao, so he locked the door behind them.  Mr. Farouk and Mr. Ajayi had instructed them all to be back at the hotel’s restaurant at 7 PM for dinner, but they had a few hours left to kill before that.  Tara and Darcy had cooked up some scheme to investigate the area surrounding the hotel, to see if there were any promising cafes, patisseries, or boulangeries that they could go to for snacks.  Charlie was amazed by how confident they were about going out in the city, especially with both of their French language speaking skills being so poor.  Walking up and down the streets, along the canal, and over some pedestrian bridges in the area allowed them to do some fun exploration.  By the end of a nearly two hour long walk, they had counted at least 5 different boulangeries, 3 different patisseries, and had lost count on the number of bars and restaurants on their route.   By the time they were back at the hotel, dinner was forty minutes away, so they decided to retire and wash up beforehand.  

Tao decided to wash up first, so Charlie took the moment to introduce his own meddling into the equation, especially after Tao’s conspiratorial efforts regarding bed-sharing.  He coaxed Nick and Isaac over to him, both of whom shot him curious looks.  Keeping his voice low, Charlie made his case. 

“First let’s just establish this…Tao and Elle definitely are mutually crushing on each other,”  he said, looking to them for confirmation.  Nick shrugged, but nodded his head, and Isaac enthusiastically nodded his head.  

“100%, Charlie.  Go on, please,” Isaac said, beaming.  Nick looked nervous, like he was afraid of what machinations his boyfriend was cooking up. 

“Well, in the spirit of Paris, I think we need to give them ample opportunity to…let’s say…act upon those mutual crushes,” Charlie said, raising his right eyebrow.

Nick finally chimed in with, “So what you’re saying is that you want to be playing matchmaker in Paris, essentially?”  

Charlie just laughed a bit at that statement.  “Well, I wouldn’t say matchmaker.  I’m not saying to go for Darcy level obviousness, but it can’t also be super subtle.  We just need to give them ample opportunity in both group and private settings to connect with one another,” he said optimistically.  

Isaac nodded along with this.  “I see where you’re going with this, Charlie.  For example, tonight at dinner, if we get the girls in on this, we can arrange ourselves in such a way that they will absolutely have to sit next to one another,” he said, thinking things through, spinning a web of ideas in his mind.  “And then tomorrow in Montmartre,” he said, before Nick jumped in.

“We can all suggest that they go to the Musée de Montmartre together.  I mean, I know most of us are so-so about art, but they aren’t!  Plus we have the Louvre to look forward to, so it’s not like we’ll not get to see any art in Paris,” he said, proud of his contribution.  

Charlie nodded his head, giving his boyfriend a quick peck on the cheek.  “You’re quite adorable when you scheme, you know that?” he said.   Nick blushed, and Isaac laughed.  

“Wait, I think he’s finished up in there.  I’ll go next and text Tara while in there, and then run down to their room.  I’ll pull them into the corridor to talk about it.  I’m sure they’ll be on board,” he said giddily.  Just as he had finished talking, Tao popped out of the bathroom, looking fresh.  He glanced over at them, all huddled up. 

“Do I even want to know what’s going on over there?” he asked, suspicious of their group.  Based on their body language and the looks on their faces, the suspicion was well deserved.  

Isaac made his way to the bathroom to freshen up, all while Charlie sarcastically retorted to Tao, “Obviously we’re having a meeting to discuss the gay agenda, Tao.  Hence why you were not invited, as the token straight man of this hotel room.”  Nick snorted, and they heard Isaac cackle from the bathroom.  They continued their banter for several more minutes before Isaac headed out and Charlie took up the bathroom, leaving Tao and Nick alone.  Given how awkward that could be, he did not want to leave Nick hanging for too long.  Despite the induction into the friend group a few weeks ago, the two of them were still on mildly rocky ground.  Not that Charlie expected Tao to love Nick immediately, but it was somewhat ridiculous how much Tao was stringing out his distrust for Nick.  Hopefully this trip would help change the tone of their relations for the better.  

Charlie splashed some water on his face, getting some of the grime of travel out.  His hair, slightly frizzy from humidity and the early morning departure, also needed some attention.  Oddly enough, doing his hair was one of those moments where he truly felt like he could think and reflect on things deeply, in a relaxing manner.  A lot of people talked about thinking things over while in the shower, but Charlie thought about things best when doing his hair.  He got his energy out fussing over the curls and how they rested, instead of fussing over other details in his life.  That let his brain review the important details without the lens of anxiety hovering over them.  Tonight, in Paris, he thought deeply about the vision he had the night prior, and what it could mean.  Dancing, animated bones.  Swirls of darkness.  Creepy music and chanting.  

Back to the bones.  Where in Paris could there be piles of bones?  Isaac .  Isaac would know.  See , he knew he had some of his best thoughts when doing his hair!  Immediately he stopped twirling his hair, dried off a bit, and then ran out the door.  Tao and Nick both looked at him expectantly, as he apparently exited the bathroom with quite gusto.  

“I just had a thought about something.  I need to go talk to Isaac about something ASAP,” he said, turning to the door.  

Tao just shouted, “See you at dinner!”  and Nick just blinked super confused.  

He would have to text him about this in a bit.  He ran down toward the girl’s room, where Isaac had just finished filling in Tara and Darcy about the Tao-Elle plan.   

Darcy winked at Charlie.  “Great work coming up with Operation Towel,” she said deviously, continuing with a, “I’ve seen it for ages, and we absolutely have to properly meddle to make it work.”  

Charlie looked at her with such confusion.  “Operation Towel?”  he asked.  

Tara rolled her eyes and simply said, “She’s shipped them, but morphed the ship name even further to “conceal it” or something like that.”  

Charlie just chuckled.  “Well, I’m glad you’re all filled in.  Um…I actually need to talk to Isaac about something sort of private for a few minutes.  Do you mind if we meet you two at dinner?”  he asked.   Tara and Darcy simply just nodded, but Isaac looked a combination of intrigued and confused.  Charlie pulled him away, toward the elevators.  He figured they could sit outside the hotel for a few moments before dinner, ensuring a degree of privacy.  They filed into the elevator, thankfully alone, and Isaac turned to Charlie. 

“You’re being very weird right now.  Are you going to tell me what’s going on?’ he asked earnestly.  

“Yeah, but…give me a minute.  I’d rather us grab a seat outside the hotel, so there’s less chance of someone overhearing the conversation.  It…it will be a bit weird,” he said cautiously.  Isaac just raised a brow, intrigued.  

The elevator reached the main floor, and the two of them took off toward the hotel exit.  There were still 10 minutes before dinner time, which Charlie reckoned was enough time to discuss his inquiry with Isaac.  He motioned to a bench some 15 feet away from the hotel entrance, and the two headed over there, plopping down quickly. 

Isaac headed up the conversation.  “Alright, spill.  What on Earth requires a private conversation outside of the hotel?  Is this about Nick?”  he asked, his previously earnest tone being replaced with a worried tone. 

“No, no!” Charlie said, almost defensively.  “Trust me, nothing about Nick.  That’s…that’s quite good,” he said.  “I just had a question about Paris itself, and I know you’ve been reading up a lot about it.”  

Isaac nodded, motioning for Charlie to continue while saying, “Okay then, what about Paris? Mind you, I’m no expert…”

“Isaac…where in Paris would you find bones?  Like, this is an old city, right?  There’s dead people everywhere, right?”  Charlie asked, awkwardly.  

Isaac just blinked at him a bit, almost completely phased by such an unexpected question. 

Charlie, seeing his friend’s confusion, immediately followed with, “That’s an awkward way to put things.”   Charlie’s brain immediately went into overdrive thinking of a way to spin this.  

“It’s just Tao recommended some obscure documentary to me, and I watched it, and it was about some famous necropolis in Egypt, and now I’m having weird dreams about a necropolis in Paris,” he blurted out.  Fantastic job, that’s just as odd .  

Isaac just beamed at him.  “Oh.  This is simply just an incredibly nerdy line of inquiry.  Okay, I get the privacy piece now.  I suppose having people think you’re obsessed with the dead would be a bit awks,” he said, chuckling.    Charlie just nodded at him. 

“Well, let me think, Charlie,” he said, pausing for a moment, deep in thought about what he had read.  “There are a few famous cemeteries in Paris, that’s for sure.  One of the most visited is Père LaChaise.  A number of celebrities are buried there.  But, also…there are the catacombs.” 

Charlie looked at Isaac intensely.  “Catacombs?” he asked, his interest piqued.  

Isaac nodded.  “The Catacombes de Paris are ossuaries.  Houses of bone.  In the late 1700s, Parisian cemeteries were overrun with remains, so the older remains were transferred to old quarries under the city.  The halls are literally lined with bones,” he said, very succinctly.  

Charlie just blinked.  “Oh.  Lined with bones,” he simply said, his mind trailing off to the vision.  Isaac just nodded his head.

“Hey, I think we have to run in for dinner now,” Isaac said.

Charlie snapped out of his thoughts.  “Oh yeah!  We definitely can’t let our plan get wasted by not showing up on time,” he said, laughing.  

They both got up and dashed inside, heading toward the restaurant.  Dinner would be beyond interesting now.  He thought he would be able to focus on getting Tao and Elle to talk a bit more and have positive interactions, but his heart simply was not in it.  Not right now.  All he could think about was the catacombs and how he was going to figure out a way to investigate them.  Dinner was great, but half the time he shuffled food around mindlessly, his brain focused on the information that Isaac had told him.  Chewing slowly on his chicken dish, his brain kept jumping between what Isaac said and what he had seen in his vision the other night.  Back and forth.  Piles of bones, some reassembled into whole skeletons, moving, animated, almost dancing, almost dancing to the competing songs in the background, the dirge and the chanting.  They were nearly finished with dinner, when Nick got his attention.  

“Char, are you okay?  You’ve only finished half of your food,” he said, a look of concern on his face.   

Snapping out of his intellectual haze, he immediately forked at some more food and crammed it in his mouth.  His sound garbled, he said, “Dunno…wot you mean, Nick.”   Nick just chuckled.

Charlie gave him a quick look after swallowing his food, the subtle communication of “we need to talk magic,” that did not go unnoticed by Nick.  They’ve had several months to perfect the look, and that practice really came in handy tonight.   Charlie heard a ding on his phone, which he pulled up secretly, glancing at it.  

Nick: Alcove, tonight after they’ve dozed off.  11pm?  

Charlie:  okay :)

The more he thought about it, the more and more Charlie completely accepted that the vision he had from the Dream Broome had everything to do with the Catacombes de Paris.  Without a doubt.  

Chapter Text

The first couple hours in Paris were already proving to be tantalizing and tortuous for Nick.  He had almost failed his own challenge, and Charlie had totally called him on it.  The boy was a menace, a complete menace - magically and romantically, and Nick was falling even deeper into it.  Between their steamy make out session and his nefarious plan to push reluctant crushes Tao and Elle together…he was hooked on him.  He thought about this all night, throughout dinner, until he noticed that something most definitely was off with Charlie.  He knew that look that his boyfriend had on his face, the look where something had entirely consumed his thoughts, in perhaps not a healthy way.  Quietly, he pointed that out to Charlie, who responded in part by giving him the look .  Just as he had feared, magic, and he had a hunch it was about the vision from the prior night.  Not even a full day into their trip, and it was rearing its ugly head already.  He texted Charlie quickly, to meet in the alcove later that night.  

“Hey, I’ll meet you all upstairs in a bit, after dinner.  I was going to try to call my dad a few times,” he said, frowning a bit.  

Darcy looked over at him.  “A few times?” she asked, confused.  

Nick just nodded at her.  “He’s notoriously flighty and poor with his communications.  Hopefully I’ll be able to get him to pick up,” he said, sighing.  

Tara, who had been half-listening, suddenly jumped in.  “Doesn’t he live in Paris?  Why on Earth wouldn’t he pick up, since you’re literally here?” she asked incredulously.  

Nick sighed even louder, lowering his eyes down to the ground.  “That’s a 500,000 quid question, Tara,” he said, before stepping out from the table, and then heading to the restaurant’s exit.  

The lobby was semi-crowded with students and other tourists, so Nick chose to head outside of the hotel, seeking out a bench not far from the entrance.  Pulling up his contacts, he clicked his father’s, dialing his number.  Ringing.  Nearly endless ringing.  Prompt for voicemail.   Hang up .  Nick scoffed.  He knew what to expect.  Perhaps his father was at an important business dinner or meeting.  He should call back and leave a voicemail this time.  He clicked call again.  Ringing.  More ringing.  Prompt for voicemail .  

“Allô papa.  Je suis à Paris maintenant.  S’il te plaît, appelle-moi.  Nous devons parler de choses très importantes,” he said on the recorded message, his voice wavering a bit with fear and sadness at the last statement.  

He really was not lying about that - between his sexuality and his magical identity, he had a lot to clear the air with his father about, and not a lot of time to do it, plus these new concerns about events going on in Paris.  He considered for a moment whether or not to call his father again, when his attention was grabbed by something rather out of the ordinary.  Darkness had started to fall on the city;  their dinner had lasted until 9, in true Parisian fashion, and it was now about 9:15.  Despite being summer hours, it was truly twilight, which made the attire of this individual walking across the street even more unusual.  If they were trying to stick out like a sore thumb, they certainly succeeded to Nick.  

They walked with authority and a fast gait, a long black cloak billowing behind them, their clothing also dark, muted colors.  Shoulder length, messy, raven black hair down to their shoulders, concealing their neck and most of their face from easy sight.  Radiating the creepiest, most malicious vibes that Nick had felt since he had seen the Paterumbra radiating from Harry Greene’s back in the park.  The individual appeared to be walking in the direction of the core of the city.  Nick was sorely tempted to get up and follow them, when the strange character tilted their head toward Nick, as if they knew that he was more than casually observing them.  Nick quickly turned his attention away, getting up from the bench, and heading straight for the hotel’s lobby.  He had seen too many horror movies and psychological thrillers to know how things would end otherwise.  Inside the lobby, Charlie was waiting for him, a look of worry on his face.  

Nick approached him quickly, reaching out to touch his hand. “Hi…I didn’t expect to see you here.  Figured you’d head upstairs,” he said.

Charlie smiled, shaking his head.  “When you mentioned your dad…I just wanted to be here just in case things went crap,” he said, smiling slightly.  Nick’s heart quivered with joy at that.

Pulling Charlie’s hand, he steered him toward the elevator.  “They were neutral I guess.  I left a voicemail,” he sort of mumbled.  The elevator dinged, opened, and they both got in.  No one else seemed to be getting onboard, so Nick motioned to push the close-door button, but before he could do so, he heard a feminine voice shout, “Wait!”

Enter, Imogen Heaney.  Nick shuddered a bit.  The last time he had really seriously seen and interacted with Imogen was at Harry Greene’s 16th birthday party.  He had been looking for Charlie post-conversation with Tara, and she had cornered him on the dance floor, asking to dance, which he was most uncomfortable with that that point, and then she had draped her hands around his neck and shoulders (without even asking, really, and despite his obvious discomfort) and confessed that she liked him.  Remembering all of this, he clammed up,  because he also remembered that he had not even mentioned it to Charlie at all.  For a second he stood there and thought…should he have?  Did he even have to?  Before he even got a second to ponder any of it, the chatting began. 

“Ohmygosh, Nicholas!” she exclaimed.  “I had no idea you were on this trip, babes!”  I somehow doubt that, he thought.  He could see Charlie shuffle uncomfortably next to him, letting go of his hand. Shit.  

“Umm…yeah.  I didn’t think you were, either.  Something about the record number of morning detentions you had back in January and February,’  he said, raising an eyebrow and smiling a bit, not trying to be cold or unfriendly.  

Imogen laughed.  “Well, if you had bothered to text me or anything in the past few months, you would know,” she said, sticking out her tongue at Nick.   Charlie had pressed the fourth floor button, and the elevator started moving up.  “Who is your friend there, Nicholas?” she asked sweetly.   Nick winced at the friend comment. 

“Oh yeah, this is Charlie,”  he nodded to Charlie.  “Charlie, Imogen, Imogen, Charlie,” Nick said, sheepishly.  Charlie just smiled and waved in response.  Oh, this is awkward .

“Oh, Charlie Spring?  I know of you!  Ohmygosh, you are just cute as a button.  Are you excited to be in Paris?  I’m personally hoping for some big Parisian romance on this trip,” she said, reaching over and giving Nick’s arm a bit of a squeeze in her excited state, before she squee’d a bit.  Turning to Charlie again, she rambled on,  “Ohmygosh, are you hoping to find a Parisian boyfriend?  How adorable would that be?  They’d certainly be better than the options back in Kent.”

Charlie’s eyes got very wide, and he made the noise that was the sound of a combination of coughing and choking, simultaneously.  They were only on the third floor, and desperately needed an intervention.  

Nick decidedly jumped in, for Charlie’s sake.  “Oh, I know on good word that Charlie’s already preoccupied with a very fit boy,” he said, chuckling a bit.  

He turned to see Charlie’s eyes, still wide, now leading to him tilting his head to the side, as if to silently say, “Are you going where I think you’re going, and is it okay to do so?”  Nick just looked back and nodded, to which Charlie smiled happily, and nodded.

Imogen couldn’t handle it.  “Ohmygosh, who is it?  I need to know.  Do I know them?  Who are they?”  she asked, desperate.  

Nick replied, “I know you’re a good person, but you have to promise not to tell a soul, okay?” he asked, quietly.   

She practically screamed, “Yes okay!!”

Just as she did, the bell rang for the fourth floor, and Nick made to get off the elevator, grabbing Charlie’s hand, intertwining his fingers with Charlie’s.  

He just looked back at Imogen, who was almost stuck in place.  “Imogen…it’s me.  Charlie’s my boyfriend,” he said,  tugging Charlie with him, and laughing a bit.  Her face was nothing but a state of shock at that point.  She slowly filed out of the elevator, her room at the opposite end of the hallway.  

Before she went off to her room, she turned to Nick and Charlie, who were both standing there, almost expecting some sort of reaction.  

“Thank you for telling me, Nick,” she said, quietly.  “The past three months make a lot of sense right now…and I am sorry if what I said at the party made you uncomfortable.  I’m really happy for you.  You two look adorable and happy.  And don’t worry…I won’t tell a soul.  That would be homophobic, and I’m an ally!” she finished, posing exuberantly.

Charlie smiled and chuckled.  “We thank you for your service, miss,” he said kindly.  

Nick smiled, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand.  “You know…I think it would be nice if you wanted to join us for lunch or something while on the trip.  I’d be happy to help you find un petit ami Parisien pour la grande romance ,” he said, chuckling a bit.  

She smiled, looking surprised a bit.  “Nicholas…your French is exquisite.  What the heck, I had no idea!” she exclaimed, and then looked at her phone.  “Shoot!  I have to run, Emily needs me.  Girl problems,” she said, waving them goodnight.  

As she made her way down the hall, Charlie turned to Nick.  “I…uh…will need the full story on this.  Although I should not be surprised that you have a female fan club,” he said giggling a bit.  

They made their way to their room.  “Don’t worry, Char.  You have no competition.  She was…well, is, I suppose, just a friend.  But yeah, I’ll tell you exactly what happened,” he said.  

Tao and Isaac were in there already, hanging out.  Privacy was most certainly going to be an issue on this trip.  Sighing, he motioned to Charlie to sit down with him.  

“You don’t mind Tao and Isaac hearing this?” Charlie asked, kindly.  

“No…I suppose if I’m going to embarrass myself a bit, I might as well embarrass myself in front of everyone, not just you,” he said, blushing.   This got both Tao and Isaac’s attention.

Both of them huddled over toward them.  Tao immediately inquired, “What’s embarrassing?  Oh, are we doing story time?”  Nick turned a deeper shade of pink, but not quite red.  

Charlie just nodded.  “For context, before Nick elaborates…some girl just hardcore flirted with him in the elevator, which lead to him admitting to her that he and I are dating, which was incredibly adorable and brave,” Charlie said, smiling.   Nick grimaced slightly, his blush still bright.  Charlie waved him on to begin. 

Nick took a deep breath.  “Well, okay…I have known Imogen for a while now, since year 7 practically.  We’ve been very casual friends, similar social circles, etc.  You know, that sort of thing,” he said, looking at them if they had questions, before continuing.  “Well, back in March…I guess she sort of fixated on this idea that she and I should date.  She never had said a word to me, as I found out secondhand via rugby lads about it.  Quite possibly I was completely oblivious to any indirect passes on her part,” he said.  Charlie laughed a bit.

“Oh, don’t I know it…you probably missed the signs by a mile, Nick,” he said, smiling widely.  Clearly he was entertained by this, not upset.  Well, not at least yet.  Nick frowned a bit.  

“Apparently I did, because at Harry’s party…after he had launched me at Tara, while I was looking for you again, Char…she sort of lobbed herself at me on the dance floor.  It was…very uncomfortable, to say the least.  I only thought of her as a friend, and here she was, dancing on me and then…she admitted that she liked me,” he said, sheepishly.  

Isaac’s eyes got wide, and Tao looked alarmed, to the point that he said, “Gosh…I can barely handle standing next to Elle right now, but that sounds so wildly uncomfortable, I would have puked,” he said.  Charlie just looked quiet, but not sullen or anything.  

Nick continued, “So yeah, I just…did not say anything back at that time, because honestly I had nothing to really say to her about it.  And then of course my mind was completely on Charlie…” he trailed off.

Charlie piqued up a bit, “And then we ended up kissing that night,” he said quietly.  Nick just nodded.

“Yeah.  And after that, my brain was so entranced by you, I totally even forgot that she did that.  We only saw each other a few times in a group setting after that, and I mostly avoided her or dodged her, and I never messaged her about it at all, so in a sense…that was kind of my late reply to her,” he finished, looking downtrodden.  “Am I an asshole?” he asked, mildly upset.  

All three of them said no, immediately.  “You were incredibly preoccupied by someone else that you clearly get along with, dearly.  I don’t think you really owed her anything, Nick, and to be honest, you just gave her some finality, which was incredibly brave of you to do it in the way that you did it,” Isaac said, candidly.  He gave Nick a soft shoulder touch.  

Tao nodded his head, in agreement.  “You never cease to surprise me, Nick Nelson,” he said with a small smile.  Progress .

“Char?  You’re a bit quiet.  To be honest, and no offense to everyone else, your opinion about this is the one I’m most concerned about,” Nick said, almost fearful of his boyfriend’s response. 

Charlie just giggled a bit.  “I’m not worried, Nick,” he said.  “I trust you.  Based on what Imogen said, I think you made it very obvious that you aren’t interested in her beyond being friends.  Which I wouldn’t mind either.  She seems fun!  But also…I think we both know very well how deep your interest in me is,” he finished, a devilish grin on his face and in his eyes.  

Nick guffawed, embarrassed.  He knew exactly what he was referencing.  Tao groaned, and made a gagging noise, diving headfirst into nearby pillows.  Isaac faux-shrieked, and then quite literally started losing it, breaking down into intense laughter.  

“We’re going to have a wild time on this trip, I just know it,” he said, in between attempting to catch his breath.  

Nick just smiled at Charlie, and gave him a quick, chaste kiss on the lips.  Checking his phone, he saw that it was 10 PM.  

“I suppose we should all start getting ready for bed,” he said, laughing a bit, the air filled with light and frivolity. 

Tao finally emerged from the pillows.  “Yes, I think so.  We’re exploring Montmartre tomorrow, I’m really excited about that,” he said.  

Charlie glanced at him, knowingly.  The sooner that everyone nodded off to sleep, the sooner they would be able to sneak out to the alcove and converse.  Isaac and Tao eventually got settled, Isaac reading a book in bed, and Tao listening to some music, quietly.  They each got ready for bed, brushing their teeth at the same time.  They faked getting into bed, turning to each other from across the divide, and reaching out to hold hands.  Isaac just put his book down, and turned off his light, the room now completely entrenched in darkness.  15 minutes until 11 PM.  5 minutes until 11 PM.  Gentle snoring could be heard from either side of them, both the music routine and the reading routine doing the trick on Tao and Isaac respectively.  11PM hit, and they both wiggled out of their beds, quietly, heading for the door, Charlie grabbing the room key off the bedside table.  

Peaking their heads out the door, they did not notice anyone in the hallway.  Everyone theoretically should be in bed by 11 PM, and theoretically Mr. Ajayi and Mr. Farouk should have done a round at 10:30/10:45 to check in with people since the curfew was technically 11 PM, so theoretically they wouldn’t do a final check for at least 15 minutes.  They scrambled down the hallway, quietly, to the vending machine alcove.  At least if they were caught, they could blame it on a hormonal hunger episode.  Once they had comfortably smooshed in a bit, Nick turned in to look at Charlie.

“Okay, mysterious boyfriend.  Spill.  What’s this about?” he asked.  

Charlie, without missing a beat, said, “We’ve got to find a way to visit the Catacombes de Paris,” he said, breathlessly.  

“The Catacombes?  Catacombes?  Wait…Isaac was talking about those.  They’re like…underground boneyards, aren’t they?” Nick asked, apprehensively.  “Oh…” He had finally connected the dots.  “The vision.”  

Charlie nodded.  “I am convinced that my vision takes place in the Catacombes.  Somewhere there, and a visit will be the only way to figure it out,” he said confidently.  

Nick pulled out his phone, and opened maps, searching for them.  “Well, according to maps…the entrance is in the 14th arrondissement, near the Paris Observatory.  Many blocks down from the Latin Quarter and Le Jardin du Luxembourg.  Maybe on the day we’re supposed to be near Notre Dame de Paris or the Louvre, we can wander off and investigate?” he said, calculating it all in his head.  

Charlie nodded, blushing.  “I’ll buy tickets,” he said, quietly.  Nick looked at him curiously.  

“Why are you blushing, Char?”  he asked.

“You’re just so…sexy…when you’re planning and plotting and scheming.  With me, especially,” he said, his blush intensifying.  

Not letting himself get caught up in his own blushing, Nick craned his neck down, firmly planting a tender kiss on Charlie’s lips.  Seeing as how they probably had a few more minutes undisturbed, they continued to kiss a bit more, obviously much more contained given the public nature of it all.  Just as Nick felt Charlie pulling his neck in for a deeper, more intense make out session, the door nearest to the alcove creaked open quietly.    None other than Imogen Heaney, poked her head out to survey the corridor, apparently attempting to make a late night snack run.  Of course, she noticed them, gasping and squeaking quietly.  They both broke apart, quickly as she shimmied across the corridor to the vending machines.  

“Oh…don’t stop on my account, boys,” she said, giggling.  “That’s the most action I’ve gotten since New Years Eve,” she said, snorting at her own comment.  Both he and Charlie turned bright pink.  The machine quietly dispensed a bag of crisps for her, as she sat there, tapping her finger.  “You know…I wasn’t sure if you were kidding or not, earlier.  I guess I can really take that as you being absolutely serious,” she said, as the crisp bag fell to the bottom of the vending machine.  

Nick smiled, nodding to her.  “Yes, 100% serious…we’ve been practically dating…well, since Harry’s party,” he said, shyly.  

She opened the bag of crisps, taking one out to eat, nodding her head.  “I’m happy for you,” she said, in between crunches.  “No, seriously, I am.  I just want to be able to hang out again.  You’re the only one of the rugby guys that has any sense, it seems,” she said, sighing.  “Except for maybe Christian…”

Charlie chuckled a bit.  “You seem to have a type, Imogen,” he said, smiling warmly.  

She sighed again.  “I guess I really do, Charlie.  I really do.  Rugby lads.  Too bad they’re usually too thick or otherwise adorably romantically involved to actually notice,” she said, glancing at Nick.  

Nick laughed, blushing a bit.  “We’ll just have to catch up…and I’ll have to make sure Christian doesn’t become romantically involved on his yearly beach trip.  I’ll put in a not-so-obvious good word for you,” he said, winking.  

“Ohmygosh, I don’t want to appear desperate,” she said, continuing, “But actually though, I think he’s literally too unaware to realize it.  Like completely unaware.”  

Charlie and Nick both laughed, with Nick saying, “Don’t worry, we’ll make it work.  He at least knows that I’m off the market,” he said, smiling.  

Before they could get caught, Charlie and Nick shimmied out of the alcove, and Imogen waved goodnight to them, bag of crisps in hand.  They traipsed back to their room, as quietly as possible.  Nick felt good about reconnecting with her, amicably, and he hoped Charlie would be happy with that, too.  Whatever plan they were going to put into motion regarding the Catacombs de Paris would need as much help as possible, especially if they were to keep Mr. Ajayi and Mr. Farouk totally unaware of it all.  Whispering goodnight to each other, they both curled into their respective beds, and then reached out to grab each other’s hands.  They could not share a bed, but this was certainly the next best thing. 

Chapter Text

Everyone in room 414 heard some modest knocking noises in the early morning hours, 7:30 AM to be precise.  Stirring, Charlie could only get a mutter out of his mouth, whereas Tao had the wherewithal to actually make it out of bed to answer the door.  From the opposite side, a familiar voice asked, “Are you almost up? It’s nearly time to go to…” which was cut off by Tao unceremoniously opening the door, and Elle finishing the phrase with, “...breakfast,” right before Tao also unceremoniously slammed the door in her face.  He had been shirtless, and in boxers, so needless to say, the embarrassment he felt was more than enough to radiate secondhand around the room.  Nick and Charlie snickered a bit, blushing, while Isaac was barely stirring at the ruckus.  

“Ummm…ok.  We’ll just see you all down there, then?” she said, utterly confused.  

Tao just blurted, “OKAY,” at her, slinking back into the room as if he wanted to die.  He plopped down on the bed next to Charlie, and whimpered, “help me.”  Charlie felt awful about laughing at his embarrassment, given how tender Tao was feeling at the moment.  Tao hardly let his guard down, or if he did, it was rarely long enough to make any progress, but Charlie thought he should try. 

“Look, Tao.  Elle definitely likes you back,” he said, simply.  

“What? No she doesn’t,” Tao said, completely unconvinced.  

“She does, I promise!  I have seen the two of you interact enough to know that there’s definitely something there.  You just have to be brave enough to give it a shot,” Charlie said adamantly. 

“Brave enough to give it a shot?  That’s stupid.  This is not a romcom, Charlie.  You’re just telling me that to make me feel better,” he said, almost a bit snarky.  Someone clearly needed caffeine and breakfast before such a conversation could seriously be had.  

Tao stormed off.  “I’m going to shower,”  he said, cranky and mildly defeatist in tone.  

Nick and Charlie just looked at each other, Nick shrugging his shoulders.  Isaac gave him the “you really tried,” look, sighed, and then got up.  Operation Towel would have to continue in earnest.  After getting cleaned up and ready, they headed down to the restaurant for breakfast.  The coffee and snack options were truly lovely.  Croissants, pain au chocolat, and a variety of fruits and spreads made for quite a happy time.  Nick knocked back an espresso, leaving Charlie completely surprised as he sipped a small café au lait.  

“I never pegged you to be an espresso shot kind of guy, Nick,” he said, his voice beaming with a sunny tone.  “You always seem so in love with tea as a beverage.”

Nick replied, “You forget, Charlie, that I’ve visited Paris before with my dad.  When in Paris…knock back a shot of espresso, right?”  

Charlie just laughed.  His boyfriend was the most adorable person in the world, and Charlie couldn’t help but play footsies with him a little bit under the table.  Tao shot daggers at them both from his eyes across the table.  Isaac was reading and having a croissant.  Tara and Darcy were flirting, discussing ice cream shops, and sharing a croissant over coffee.  Sahar, their fourth roommate, had just come down from the room, and sleepily rolled into their little nook, a cup of coffee in hand.  It felt so idyllic, in so many ways.  A gorgeous day in Paris, a great bunch of people, and just…happiness.  Normalcy. 

Sahar, finishing her cup of coffee, said to the group, “Is everyone else excited for Montmartre, or is it just me?”  

Elle, eyes shining, replied, “OH my gosh, yes. The Sacre Cœur looks dazzling.  The whole area is simply romantic.  And there’s an art museum up there.”   Tao just raised his brows in acknowledgement of the last part.  He, of anyone, would know about the art museum.  

Darcy smiled.  “I just want to walk around with my girlfriend and be happy,” she said.  Just then, Tara chimed in.

“We’re actually supposed to be outside…like right now.  For the coach,” she said, almost yelping.  

All of them ran for it, croissants in hand, last mouthfuls of coffee being chugged.  Caffeine for caffeine’s sake.  The coach ride to Montmartre was not super long, but on the way, they saw why they took the coach, and why the area of Paris had acquired its name.  It was quite literally a fairly large hill, one that would not be fun to walk up, a walk down being debatable in amusement.  Nick had pointed this out to Charlie and Isaac, to which Charlie laughed.  

“Doesn’t it quite literally mean Martyr Mountain?” Charlie asked.  Isaac just shook his head. 

“It is not an actual cognate.  It comes from Latin, Mons Martis…” Isaac began saying, in which Charlie finished, “Mountain of Mars, the Roman god of War.”   Isaac nodded.  

Nick smiled.  “The Sacre Cœur was actually built by the French public, too.  It was a demonstration of public support for the country’s morale after losing the Franco-Prussian War,” he said.  

Charlie shuddered, mildly.  “You are so hot when you know things,” he said, beaming at his boyfriend.   Nick blushed, and Isaac groaned. 

“You two.  Please don’t embarrass yourselves in public today, I beg you,” he said, half-joking, half-pleading.  Charlie and Nick just laughed in return.  

The coach came to a stop at the top of the hill, letting them all out.  Mr. Farouk and Mr. Ajayi gave them some general instructions about the day – boundaries to keep to, time limits to observe before they had to be back on the bus, and constant reminders to always be with a friend.  Basically, they would have until 3 PM to survey any and all of Montmartre, and some of the immediate streets outside of the main area, after which they would regroup at the hotel before doing some pre-dinner activities to be discussed further.  The day would certainly be full of opportunities.  Their main group joined up outside of the coach to discuss plans.  

Charlie started first.  “I really want to go to the Sacre Cœur at some point, just to see, and honestly, would love to just walk around and take in the sites,” he said.

Darcy chimed in, “I really want some good, Parisian ice cream.  That’s super important.”  

Tara nodded.  “I’m really down for whatever,” she said, with Sahar nodding along with her.  

Elle piped up.  “I really want to go to the Musée de Montmartre.  It is an homage to artists – some of the most famous impressionists lived and painted there,” she said enthusiastically. 

Tao joined in, “Yeah, it is like…absolutely essential to visit!”  

Darcy just threw up her hands in a large shrug.  “Doesn’t really sound like my thing, but I definitely think you two should go,” she said, beaming.  

Nick nodded his head.  “Yeah, you two go off and enjoy the museum!”  he said enthusiastically. 

Tao swallowed a bit.  “Just…us, then?”  

Everyone gave them a thumbs up, smiling, almost too effusively.  Not waiting much longer, the two of them walked off toward the museum.  Knowing them, they would spend almost the entire time there.  When they were firmly out of earshot, Isaac turned to everyone.

“I mean, I know I’m pretty perceptive…but it sounded like everyone was being legitimately supportive and not creepily disingenuous in their efforts to convince them to go to the museum, alone,” he said.  

Sahar added in, “I concur.  It mostly felt like friendly supportive nudges, nothing too obvious.”  

Charlie sighed.  “Oh good.  I was almost certain that Darcy and Nick ruined it by being too enthusiastic,” he said.  Nick gave him a playful nudge and patted his head, and Darcy just rolled her eyes a bit.  

Before they could make any decisions on their first destination, or which direction they wanted to walk, Imogen approached their group.  

“Umm.  Hi everyone,” she said, meekly, very unlike her usually confident self.  

Tara and Darcy immediately looked a bit defensive.  There must be some Higgs drama there that Charlie did not know about, past drama not fully recovered from, or even they just moved in such completely different social orbits that this interaction was just weird to the core.

“Hi Imogen,” Tara said, rather cooly.  Darcy just nodded at her curtly.  Sahar kind of just blinked at her, as if she had never been that close to her or ever even heard her speak before.  

“I was wondering…well, I was wondering…could I join your group today?  Two of the girls in my group are having a frenemy fight right now, and the other is being gross and trying to hook up with Harry Greene, and Emily is nonstop texting that knob of a boyfriend of hers,” she said, making gagging noises about it all.  

Charlie automatically mirrored the gagging noises.  He was almost certain that Emily’s knobbish boyfriend was none other than Ben Hope, and the sheer fact that someone was legitimately interested in Harry Green was indeed sick-inducing.  

“Consider yourself very welcome, Imogen.  Personally, after that amazing breakfast, I don’t wish emesis on anyone by witnessing that much disgusting crap,” he said, smiling.  Charlie had hoped that breaking the ice would also help ease the other Higgs girls into hanging out with Imogen, too, as they clearly were a little off put. 

Nick just smiled, too.  “I’m sure we have room for one more.  Maybe over ice cream I can tell you more about the past few months,” he said kindly.  

Tara and Darcy just looked at each other, confused, before Darcy asked, “Wait, you know each other?  Are our worlds really that small?”

Imogen laughed.  “Yep.  I misread all of the signs involving Nicholas over here, and thought he liked me, when he most certainly was very much romantically involved with this adorable lad over here,” she said, booping Charlie on the nose lightly.   Charlie just giggled.  

And so with an additional group member, they began circulating around Montmartre, taking in the scenes.  Even though it had gone through its most bohemian days a while back, it still had the air of artistry to it, with an occasional street painter or photographer out and about.  Charlie noticed that Nick took the opportunity to snap photos of him whenever he got the chance to do so, whether or not it was a discreet attempt or a selfie.   That made his heart swell indescribably, that someone liked him enough, especially his appearance enough, to be that obsessed with taking photos of him that often.  He started blushing whenever he caught Nick trying to do it sneakily, hoping the added rouge would make the photo more adorable.  Hopefully Nick did not intend to Instagram them all.  Charlie would ask at some point when they were alone.  After they had circulated for an hour, the group stopped outside of the Sacre Cœur.

“I really want to see the inside of the building,” Isaac said, looking gleeful.

“Same!” Sahar said.  Charlie nodded along with her, as did Imogen.

“My inner nerd really wants to admire the architecture and history,” he said.  

“My mum told me that I really had to check the building out, just because,” Imogen said, shrugging her shoulders. 

Tara, who had complained earlier about feeling a bit toasty, nodded her head.  “I just really want to get out of the sun for a little bit, but I also really want ice cream,” she said ruefully.  

Nick and Darcy looked at each other and nodded.  “Well, I think we’ll go get ice cream then.  I think it might take 15-20 minutes to get there and back.  You know, the shop near the alley we passed a while back?”  he said, looking at everyone.  Charlie and Tara nodded.  “What flavors would people want?”  

Imogen said, “Don’t worry about me, I’m not quite up for it right now.”  

Sahar said, “Something simple, like vanilla.”

Tara, eyes bright, said, “Darcy, you know what I like.”  Darcy just nodded and gave her a wink.  

“Char?”  Nick asked.  

“Chocolate works.  Absolutely no bubblegum, Nick.  I will wretch,” he said, sticking out his tongue.

Nick just laughed.  “I don’t think the French stoop so low with their flavor profiles.  Duly noted - chocolate it is,” he said, smiling.  He and Darcy turned in the opposite direction, heading off to the shop.  

They started walking up the steps to the Sacre Cœur, and Imogen turned to Charlie.  

“My god, he calls you Char and everything.  Just when I think it can’t be more adorable, it doubles down with sweetness,” she said, nearly squeezing her own cheeks gleefully.  Sahar just laughed.  

“I did not realize they were dating until dinner last night.  Didn’t even tell me, directly.  Honestly…if you’re around them long enough, it is virtually impossible not to tell that they are,” she said, giggling a bit. 

Charlie blushed furiously.  “Are we really that obvious?” he asked anxiously.  

Imogen responded, “Well, not from afar, but if anyone hangs out around you long enough, yeah…I think so.  It becomes super obvious, although you did tell me, so…”

Sahar just nodded in agreement, as did Tara.  “Listen, Charlie…I am no expert, but I certainly think that Nick is absolutely head over heels in love with you.  And yes, I am using love there, because that’s what I am sensing,”  Sahar said adamantly. 

Imogen, Tara, and Isaac all nodded in concurment.  Isaac, pushed further.  “I’ve known you long enough, and seen you two long enough to know that you feel the same way, Charlie,” he said, smiling.  

Charlie just sunk his head into his hands.  “I love that you all are so certain, and while I think…it could be so, in the future…it is just far too early to even consider this all,” he said, nervously.  He wanted to believe it, but a nagging voice in his head kept telling him it would be a mistake to trust that so soon.

Isaac nodded, and Sahar put her hand on his shoulder.  “You talk about it on your own time, don’t worry, and he will on his own time, too.  I can say this, without a lack of confidence…you two are meant to be,” she said.   Charlie just smiled and sighed happily. 

“I am incredibly lucky,” he said. 

Suddenly, as they were about to reach the door, Imogen let out a small sniffle.  They all turned and looked at her, utterly confused.  

“Sorry, everyone.  I’m shit and totally making this about me right now, but the sheer cuteness overwhelmed me. Also, I’m just completely jealous of your friend group right now.  Like…my friends would be telling me to spill my guts and if I don’t I’ll lose my man, blah blah blah.  You’re all like…next level thoughtful and it is so refreshing,” she said, eyes leaking tears. 

Tara just laughed a bit and Sahar just looked dumbfounded.  Isaac didn’t know what to think.  Charlie just patted her on the back.

“Popularity comes with walls, and walls limit development.  When you’re a band of social outcasts, as Tao likes to call us, you give up on caring what others think and just…do you, you know?”  he said, smiling at her.  

They reached the top step and the doors, pulling them open.  Imogen smiled and nodded, and said before they entered, “Honestly…that alone is powerful.  You all are so cool in your own ways, and it's not superficial like the others at all.”  As they entered the church, she fell quiet, as did the others, respecting the gravity of the air of the church.   

A sign in French pointed tourists in a particular direction, to respectfully view the inner workings of the church without disrupting any religious activities taking place there.  When they reached a little observational alcove, that is when Charlie felt a chill.  An unnatural chill, similar to what he had felt months ago.  

Directly across from them, on the other side of the altar, a person in black, hooded by a cloak, lurked in a section that was supposedly off-limits to tourists.  They most certainly could not be from a religious order, given the way that they were dressed.  Charlie felt a sense of foreboding, a dark aura permeating from the shady character.  No shadows radiated from them, but a curious stench lingered in the air, combining the smells of church incense and candles with something that smelled damp and earthy, but also disgusting.  Charlie kept staring, cautiously, with the hopes that he would not be noticed.  His mind was a bit overtaken with the scents and the quiet of the church, and he closed his eyes momentarily.  

That’s when he saw it, again.  The vision, replaying, but even more clearly.  The dirge and chanting, more audible than before.  And the person in the black cloak…was the one chanting.  He opened his eyes quickly, luckily at the best time, as he saw the cloaked individual making toward a set of stairs, and then dipping down them, swiftly.  Charlie just knew then, that the underground must also have something to do with the Catacombes de Paris.  But how the site, across the river beyond the left bank of the Seine, was connected to the Sacre Cœur, loomed as an even greater mystery among mysteries.  As he stood there, Tara tapped his shoulder, breaking him out of his trance. 

“I think we need to move a bit,” she said.  “There’s a large tourist group coming in here, and we don’t want to be too in the way.”  Charlie nodded.  That might be for the best. 

Nick’s sense of direction was absolute shit.  At least that is what Darcy thought.  The ice cream shop they were headed off to was not that far away from where they had left their group, but somehow they seemed to get lost.  Not only lost, but in a tiny alleyway, not on the main road. It was positively creepy.  Darcy tugged on Nick’s sleeve to get his attention, as he looked at his phone. 

“Do you have any idea where we are?” she asked, trying to remove any sort of judgmental tone from her voice. 

Nick gulped.  “Honestly, I don’t know.  I thought we were going the correct way, but…” he said, trailing off.  “I mean, this alley has to end at some point or connect to another road, or something,” he continued, seemingly frustrated.  

Just as he had finished his statement, the trash nearby ruffled, and a large rat wandered out.  Both of them jumped, and Darcy shrieked.  And then…a putrid stench washed over them, one that went beyond a typical garbage smell, one that could not easily be described.  Darcy felt positively sick.  

“Nick…what on Earth is that smell? Ugh, we need to get out of here before I get sick,” she said.

Just then, more rustling from the trash, and Darcy looked over, half prepared to see another large Parisian rat lob itself out of the trash pile.  She was not quite prepared for what she actually saw, however.   Reaching out of the pile of trash, was a human arm, elbow joint and everything, as if someone had decided to go dumpster diving, but got stuck.  This arm, however, looked beyond covered in trash, but appeared positively fetid.  Sallow, white skin, covered in splotches of green and purple, those that could be best described as bruises and rot.  Darcy tugged Nick hard; he had gone back to looking at the map again.   

“Darcy wot?” he said, mildly grumpy.

She pointed at the trash pile.  “Nick…I…I…think there’s a…body in that trash,” she said, her voice trembling, and her body starting to shake.  Nick slowly looked up from his phone, over to where she had pointed.  They were surrounded by shops, some of which had back windows, but no one seemed to notice any of what was going on.  Nick, seemingly terrified, yet also curious, stepped forward a bit, as if he was going to take a closer look.  

“Nick, are you mad?  We should call someone!” Darcy said, looking shocked.  

Just as she had finished her statement, the trash pile shook violently, and the rest of a body emerged from it.  Not from some external force, or disturbance from a pile of large rats, but of its own sheer will and capacity.  Both Nick and Darcy jumped back several feet, and then rooted in place, their own fear gripping them.  Darcy grabbed Nick’s arm tensely, almost digging her nails into it.  The body lurched itself toward them, slowly, almost like it was half-crawling, half-slithering.  It was indeed a foul sight.  No eyes, lips purple-black, skin blotchy and foul, a smell so heinous that they had both covered their noses and mouths with their shirts.  Just as Darcy thought she was about to be consumed by the dead, a plot point in a horror B-movie, Nick raised his hand authoritatively.  Tendrils of hot white light erupted from his hand in a steady stream, striking the animated corpse, which emitted a slight shriek.  Darcy stood in absolute disbelief, as what appeared to be a cloud of dark, indigo gas leaked out of the corpse and got swallowed up by crackling sparks of light.  The corpse let out a twitch, and collapsed, moving no further.   Before she had a moment to even process what had happened, Nick grabbed her hand, suddenly.

“Darcy, we have to get out of here.  And we have to find that ice cream shop.  I will explain everything to you as much as possible, but please…please don’t freak out too much, ok?”  he said, pleading.  

Not knowing what to think, or even say, Darcy Olsson just followed Nick Nelson back out of the alleyway.  In a foreign country, where she did not speak the language, she would just have to trust her friend, to the best of her ability, even after seeing him shoot light from his hand.  

On the upper floor of an artsy antique shop, Tao Xu and Elle Argent were frozen in awe.  They probably were the only ones in the immediate area to hear a girl scream from the alleyway, and naturally went to the window in the back of the store to see what was happening.  What they had not expected to see, however, was their friend Nick, shooting light out of his hand at what appeared to be…well, they could not even imagine what it appeared to be.  The two of them just looked at each other, in shock, both of their eyes screaming out, “What in the hell did we just see?”

Chapter Text

Elle Argent was no imbecile.  Her friends, however, must have thought that she was somewhat dumb, because they had clearly hatched some diabolical plan to force her to spend gratuitous amounts of alone time with Tao Xu.  Gratuitous referring to the fact that he could barely function around her when they were alone, and thus too much of it was simply a waste of epic proportions.  She internally sighed when everyone basically rejected the idea of going to the Musée de Montmartre, internally fretted when Darcy and Nick both enthusiastically nudged them to go, together, and then had to mentally compose herself for the walk with him, alone. Thankfully, the museum itself was not too far away from where the coach had dropped all of them.  Paris certainly was compact, and the hilly terrain of Montmartre made the compact nature even more essential.  At least when they reached the museum they would have something to talk about, potentially alleviating the utter awkwardness of it all. 

Tao was the first of the two to break the silence.  “So…are you also disappointed that our friends are uncultured swine?” he asked, sarcastically emphasizing the uncultured swine part.  

Elle simply laughed.  “I think they’re just saving their artistic curiosity for the Louvre, which I suppose is understandable, despite being very touristy.  Sahar is interested in the Arts, that I know,” she said, rambling a bit.  

Tao just chuckled a bit.  “Oh, well that’s at least good.  I mean, I know…different tastes and such.  I guess I really don’t care for architecture a ton.  I mean, the Sacre Cœur is pretty to look at, but popping in a church just to look at it…well that doesn’t really sit well with me,” Tao said, furrowing his brows a bit.  

Elle just nodded.  She, of all people, really felt that.  Her parents had been moderately religious, but when she had started going to therapy with them and having serious conversations about her transitioning, they had slowly stopped going as regularly.  Her parents loved her, and she knew that they struggled with the hateful rhetoric that had come not only from their faith group, but others as well.  She had never really shared any of that with anyone, since it felt incredibly private, but for some reason, knowing that her friends were dead set on making her crush on Tao become a reality, she felt that putting some effort to show vulnerability could possibly be alluring to him.  Maybe convince him that she wanted to be more than just really good platonic friends.  

“I know what you mean, Tao,” she said, sighing.  “I have never really brought this up with anyone, but…” she trailed off.  Tao gave her a small touch with his hand.  

“I know I say this a lot, and then completely muck it up, but whatever you are about to say, you have my total confidence, if it is necessary,”  he said.   Elle nodded at him.  

“Well, I don’t know if total confidence is necessary, and I guess I’m just being vulnerable, but religious institutions just kind of generally bring up fear and trauma for me,” she said, continuing, “I mean, not every transphobe I’ve encountered is religious, most are just assholes, but the ones that hurt the most for me are the ones that seem so nice, and then turn around and either tell me I’m some sort of abomination or act like they are the righteous ones needed to “save” me from myself, as if I’m not capable of thinking on my own, or making these decisions with the help of my own family.”  Her voice cracked a bit.    

Tao just nodded, listening, putting his hand on Elle’s shoulder, trying to comfort her, as she continued talking. 

“It’s gotten worse, lately, too.  Everytime I see news about things back home and in the US, it just makes me sick.  Like the crap in Texas…” she trailed off. 

Tao looked at her quizzically.  “Texas?”  he asked.   She just nodded.  

“I know it’s silly, like it’s a world away and everything, but transphobes like copying ideas, especially the cruelest, shittiest ones.  They’re literally interrupting gender-affirming care for minors and trying to investigate parents for “child abuse,” which is such utter rubbish.  It’s like state-sponsored terrorism against trans-people and their families,” she said, tearing up.  

Tao gave her an awkward side hug.  “It has always amazed me how “freedom” people over there love restricting freedom and interfering in people’s personal lives.  Just as equally amazing as how “love your neighbor” gets conveniently turned into “terrorize your neighbor if they live anywhere outside the bounds of your interpretation of this ancient, highly edited text,” and even more amazing that those two circles of a Venn diagram seemingly 100% overlap,” he said.  

Elle chuckled lightly, thankful that Tao tried to inject some sort of humor into this situation.  “I’m sorry for offloading my feelings right now.  I had to try so hard to convince my mom that it would be safe to even be here, so I’ve been thinking a lot about stuff like this and what it means to be trans in the world right now…” she said, fading off.  

Tao just smiled.  “Hey, don’t worry.  We all need people to talk to about the world and how endlessly messed up it seems to be,” he said, giving Elle another soft squeeze of comfort.  “And…well, it will be my duty for the rest of the day to distract you as much as possible from that, and keep you focused on the wonder that is Paris!”  he said, clapping his hands together and motioning all around them.  

Elle just laughed a bit, and did a twirl in the street.  She could do this, and maybe…just maybe this alone time with Tao would be perfectly fine.  That really serious talk seemed to have done the trick a bit, almost buttering him up to be a bit braver around her.  Turning off the small path they had been on, onto Rue Cortot, the Musée de Montmartre was within a few feet of them.  Elle simply beamed, and got incredibly giddy about it all, like she was a little girl.  

Grabbing Tao’s hand, she said, “Come on, let’s go!  We’re so close now, I can’t handle the excitement!”  She started to take off at a fast clip.

Behind her, Tao groaned, “Elle, you know I can’t run!  These stork legs aren’t athletic at all!”

Both reached the museum in a giddy state, which was automatically eyed by the museum attendants cautiously.  It took them a minute, but they straightened themselves up.  Apparently, absolutely serious conduct was a necessity there, which sort of made sense.  Children under 10 got in free, but rambunctious teenagers certainly did not, however they got a reduced fare of eight euro.  They paid the ticket fair for self-guided tours, and headed in.  As much as they would love a guided tour, everything had been booked days in advance.  The museum itself was quite magnificent, and in fact, was not wholly an indoor venture.  One of the key features of it were the elegant gardens outside, known as Les Jardins Renoir,  the Renoir Gardens, and even a cafe there, Le Café Renoir.  Elle looked at the information about the cafe longingly, secretly hoping that Tao would propose that they go there.  It would be the closest thing to a date that they would have at that point.  It certainly looked idyllic, with its glass roofing leading out to the gardens.  

They wandered the museum for an hour, looking at the various collections.  The beautiful thing about the Musée de Montmartre was that it did not just house artwork, but also artifacts from the artists that had lived there in the past, one of the most famous being the Impressionist Renoir himself.  Truly, it was an eclectic museum that could be enjoyed by numerous types of people, those that enjoyed art, those that enjoyed history, and those that simply enjoyed the aesthetically pleasing gardens and surroundings.  After quietly examining artwork and chatting over the collections of historical figures, they headed out to the gardens.  They were incredibly breathtaking, and Renoir himself had painted several famous paintings in them, including La Balancoire, “The Swing.”  They also really revealed how much of a hill Montmartre truly was.  

“Oh wow,” Elle said, breathlessly, as she gazed out from the gardens, viewing the cityscape of Paris.  

“That really is…quite the view,” Tao said, blushing.  Elle noticed the blushing, and wondered if he was afraid to attach some sort of explicit romanticism to it.  

Checking her watch, Elle said, “Do you want to sit in the cafe for 15 minutes and drink an espresso and eat a croissant before heading out?”  

Tao just nodded, blushing.  Had Elle just asked him on a mini-date?  I mean, probably not, right?  They were already here, so it was just natural that they stop at the cafe for a little refreshment.  Vive La France, Vive Paris, right?  It was all so terribly frustrating.  She could tell that he had some feelings for her, some romantic feelings for her, but the fear she held at acting on her feelings and addressing his feelings was just so overwhelming that it hindered her completely.  She needed….she needed something more, a more explicit sign that it was mutually reciprocated, that it wouldn’t end in total disaster in less than 10 minutes.  Tao ordered them espressos and croissants, and brought them over to her as she waited at a table that had somewhat of a view over the gardens.  They both knocked back their espresso shots before they could get cold and flat in flavor.  

Tao spoke first.  “I know we don’t have a ton of time left before we need to meet up with the group, but…when I was flailing helplessly, or as you call it, running, I noticed an antique store over there.  Would you be interested in looking through the shop for a bit after this?  Maybe we could find something not-so-touristy to bring home?” he asked.  

“Oh Tao, I’d love that.  You know how I love vintage pieces and stuff like that,” she said, beaming.  Tao nodded, smiling. 

That was a piece of evidence, Elle supposed.  Not that many people know her that well, but Tao does.  Tao knows she loves vintage clothing, that she loves searching through old antique stores, that she loves modifying clothing and other items to personalize them, that she loves repurposing and upcycling furniture and other items.   Tao knows that she regularly toys with the idea of starting a business that involves her passion for fashion design and textiles, mixed with her love of repurposing and modifying older things.  She’s even floated some names to him, including Argent’s Antiquities, Elle’s Earth Initiative, and Argent’s Repurposing.  To be honest though, she knows those are all works in progress and the business is probably a long shot, but the fact is, he knows it is her dream.  Maybe she is overthinking this fear of telling him, over-analyzing this whole situation with him.  They scarf down their croissants, take a cute picture with Paris in the background of the gardens, and head off to the antique store that Tao had seen.  

The store had that characteristic smell of an antique store - a must, combined with old woodsy scents, leather-bound books and furniture, and odd herbal smells.  The bottom floor was an interesting mix of old furniture pieces from a variety of time periods, overall larger items that they had no hope of being able to afford or being able to bring home on a coach.  Feeling disappointed, Elle was ready to leave, before Tao nudged her and pointed to a spiral staircase that led to an upstairs portion of the store.  A middle aged shopkeeper nodded to them both, the unspoken, “Yes, that’s for customers, too!”  They carefully headed up the steps, until they reached a moderately sized lofted area filled with books and other knickknacks.  They split up and looked through different shelves.  Tao found a gorgeous leather-bound book, its leather a dark mahogany color. 

“Hey Elle, come look at this!” he said, cheerily.  She came by and peaked at it, sensing his excitement.  

“That’s gorgeous Tao.  Wait, is that in Latin?  Are you thinking about getting this for Charlie?” she asked.  

“Honestly, yeah.  It looks really regal, and there’s some very interesting diagrams in here.  Looks quite fantastical,” he said, sounding chipper.  “Plus, they literally want 15 euro for it.  I don’t know, but it looks too gorgeous to be that cheap.”    Elle just nodded.  

“I don’t think I’m going to get anything in here, because I’d rather spend several more hours looking before I buy, but why don’t you run down really fast and buy it while I continue to look?” she suggested.   He nodded, and made his way to the stairs.  

She continued browsing.  There were so many different books, some old prints of classic literature, some French translations of Bronte and Austen.  Various glassware and earthenware pieces were lining tables toward the walls.  Beautiful pieces that deserved a home, but would certainly not survive in her luggage.  After a few minutes, Tao jaunted back upstairs.  

“All checked out?” she asked.  He nodded and smiled.  And then, that’s when they heard it.  The blood piercing scream.

“What was that?” Tao said, looking alarmed.  He and Elle headed over to the window, which overlooked an alleyway below.  

Peering out the window, they noticed two people, one male and one female, who appeared to be transfixed by something crawling, almost slithering in their direction.  Elle swore she could hear the female yell out, “Nick.”  

“Wait…is that…Nick and Darcy?”  she asked Tao, who was squinting and scrunching his face.  

“That has got to be, I recognize that hair and those broad shoulders almost anywhere!” he exclaimed.  

Before they could deliberate any further, or wonder any longer, the person who they thought was Nick, raised his hand suddenly, aiming at whatever was working its way toward them.  No soon after he did that, did rays of hot white light flash forward, striking down whatever had threatened them, a sizzling sound crackling through the air.  Elle gripped Tao’s arm suddenly.  The two in the alleyway had started to run off, their figures slightly more visible – it was definitely Nick and Darcy.  

“We have to get out of here, Tao.  We have to get back to the group,” she said.  

Tao was rooted in place.  “What…what do we say?” he asked, quietly.  

Elle, pulling him toward the stairs, said, “Seeing as how we don’t even know what we just saw…we say nothing, Tao.  We. Say. Nothing.”   And with that, they rushed down the stairs, thanking the shopkeeper, and heading out back toward the Sacre Cœur.  

Higher up on the hill, Charlie had just sat down with Tara on the steps leading up toward the Sacre Cœur.  Sahar and Imogen were talking casually and admiring the external architecture of the church, not too far away from them.  Weirdly enough, he had thought he heard a distant shriek a few moments ago, but he put it to the back of his mind.  They were in a large city after all, it could be anyone or anything, really.  Tara budged up next to him on the step, nudging him a bit with her shoulder.  

“Hey,” she said softly.  “How are things going with you and Nick?” 

“Really great, actually.  Sometimes I feel like I am in a haze of disbelief that he’s actually my boyfriend,” Charlie said, letting out a small giggle.

“Really?  Why’s that?” she asked.

“A lot of reasons.  For one, he’s so great in so many ways.  But then also I had this weird jealousy that you and him were secretly getting together, from like…February until April or May, when I found out you and Darcy were together, so…” he said, grinning sheepishly.

Tara couldn’t help but cackle.  “Oh my gosh, yeah there’s definitely no chance of that happening.  Oh Charlie, sweetie…I know you can tell, but he’s unbearably in love with you,” she said, poking him. 

Charlie blushed.  “Well, the more you all bring it up…I am definitely picking up on that,” he said meekly.  

Tara replied, “I certainly hope so.  Even Tao is picking up on it, that’s how strong it is.”  Charlie laughed.  

Charlie thought for a second.  Besides the “love” question, the biggest doubt that lingered in his mind about Nick was how fast or how slow he wanted to come out to people.  Sometimes it was slow, but other times, it felt like Nick just wanted to scream it to the world.   For example, he knew Nick knew Imogen for a while, but coming out to her felt so out of left-field that it initially took Charlie by surprise.  Of course, after getting to know her a little better, he figured that despite being one of the “popular” girls at Higgs, she was actually relatively decent and could tell who was an utter knob, which meant a lot.  

Almost reluctantly, Charlie asked Tara,  “How did you and Darcy work up to coming out to people?”

“Well, it was a long road.  Darcy was already out, and I was not comfortable calling myself a lesbian for the longest time.  We kept a lot of our relationship private, except for with a few select individuals.  Most of the time we kept to the “really good platonic friends” situation in public.  People at school were really nasty about lesbians for a while, heck some still are.  But…but the key to it is figuring out who you are as people and as a couple, because then…you just don’t really care that much.  You’re happy with who you are, who the two of you are, and you face those obstacles…well, together,” she said, thoughtfully, with a smile on her face.  

“So…how did you tell people?” Charlie asked.  

“We didn’t, Charlie.  We just stopped hiding.  And there were the obligatory social media posts/relationship changes, etc.” she said, crackling a smile with a small laugh.  

She looked at Charlie, concerned.  “This is really stressing you out, isn’t it?” she asked.  

“Yeah…I don’t want to rush Nick, at all. His timeline is rather confusing, but I’m okay with whatever he wants…I just worry.  I worry that he’ll be bullied like I was, and that his golden heart will get bruised, and I just can’t stand thinking about that,” he said, his eyes watering a bit thinking about it, adding, “and I hate feeling that he feels pressure to be out, just because I am.”

Tara looked torn.  “I mean, sometimes it is better for some people to stay in the closet.  There’s certainly always risks involved with coming out.  Some people simply will view you differently, but…do you want to be out as a couple?”

“Well, yeah.  I would love to publicly celebrate him as my boyfriend, basically,” Charlie said, blushing. 

“Does he want you to be out as a couple?” she asked again.

“He said he does,” Charlie replied. 

Tara replied, “Well…maybe let it happen then?  Just be you, be a couple. And if something bad happens, deal with it as a couple.  Don’t overthink it, just…just be with each other, and be happy,” she said. 

Before they could continue the conversation, their ears were met by the pitter-patter of feet on the stones of the walkway leading up to the church.  Nick and Darcy had finally returned with ice cream orders.  They must have gotten seriously lost and put upon, because they both looked mildly haggard, as if they had run a half marathon.  Nick held a carrier that contained a few cups, and Darcy held a big cup for her and Tara to share.  

“Dreadful news, Jonesy.  No banana for me, and no mint chocolate chip for you.  Simply a tragedy.  I had to settle for second best – strawberry,” she said.  

Her voice was mildly shaky;  Charlie could not tell if it related to the mad dash they had done, or something else completely, until Nick had returned from handing off Sahar’s vanilla ice cream.   He had managed to somehow preserve a full cone of ice cream without it really melting.  He sat next to Charlie, and turned in to face him.

“Would you like a lick of my ice cream, Char?” he asked, smiling warmly.  

Charlie blushed, his dazed eyes gazing over Nick’s sweet face.  A…lick. A lick.  Before his mind could dive deeper into the gutter, Nick’s voice called him back.

“Oh god, that sounded awfully sexual for some reason,” he said, scrunching his face up. 

Charlie simply laughed hysterically, grabbed the cone, and took a rather suggestive lick, which he totally ruined halfway through because he managed to get a glob of ice cream on his nose.  As Nick took a napkin up to his nose to wipe it off, he glanced at Charlie, and gave him the look.  The same look that Charlie had given him about the Catacombs.  Charlie nodded his head in understanding, and Nick nodded back.  11 PM, the vending machine alcove.  From afar, they could see Tao and Elle heading their way.  Both of them looked hurried, as if they had seen a ghost.  Curious.  

Darcy turned to them both. “Do you think anything happened…like anything good that is, while they were at the museum?” she asked.  Her voice sounded a bit strained and hesitant.  

Charlie replied, “God, I certainly hope so.  I now understand why Tao was so sick of me a few months ago…the pining can really be unbearable.”   Nick laughed, touching Charlie’s hand gently.  Tara and Darcy also giggled a bit.  Unfortunately, they did not have a lot of time to think about it, as the coach pulled up to take them back to the hotel.  As they were boarding the coach back, five different minds thought incredibly similar, interrelated things, glancing at each other furtively as they did so:

Nick:  How am I going to explain to Darcy what she saw?  How am I going to explain to Charlie what happened and that Darcy saw it?

Darcy:  When and what is Nick going to explain to me?  Do my odd, recent occurrences fit in here?

Tao:  How am I going to tell my best friend that…his new, beloved boyfriend has superhero powers or something of the like?

Elle:  How am I going to make sure Darcy is okay, without telling her I saw what happened?  How am I going to stop Tao from ruining Charlie’s relationship without a little more information and explanation from Nick? 

Charlie:  What happened today, concerning magic?  Did it have something to do with that scream I thought I heard?  

Naturally, each of them were so deeply in their thoughts that none of them saw Isaac, carefully glancing between each of them, taking in the stress and strain on their faces.  His perceptive skills were incredibly heightened for some reason.  Maybe it was Paris, maybe it was the espresso, but he too had his own thoughts.   How am I going to get them all into a private space to discuss what happened, because clearly something big went down, something that connects them all.  While he was not confident, he felt that the coach ride back to the hotel would be more than enough time to concoct some sort of plan, but whether or not they would have the time to put it into action, well…that was to be seen. 

Chapter Text

Stéphane Nelson often had to remind himself to take lunch breaks, something his French friends found both simultaneously horrifying and amusing.  Fortunately for him, a lovely little bistro was a short walk away from his flat, so a quick drop in for lunch was always easily accessible.  Aux Ours offered a variety of different options, but Stéphane was particularly fond of their burger choices, especially the Burger des ours, the house speciality.  He had a slight obsession with them after visiting the United States a few years back, one that was not shared with every French person he knew.  It was after one of these particular lunch time outings, that he had decided to call his father.  He knew he had to be in a particularly optimistic mood to make it through such a conversation.  His first dial resulted in nothing, as did the second dial. Completely unsurprising, and in the back of his mind, he had a moment where he wondered if he was becoming eerily like his own father.  Punting that thought to the back of his mind, dialed a third time – success.  

The conversation did not last long.  Five minutes, max.  Coincidentally, his father had been having dreams and visions about his dreams and lack thereof.  He could provide no concrete explanation as to the machinations of the interference, who was doing the interference, or why.  The one clear and concise thing that he could impart upon his son, was probably the most disturbing thing to Stéphane.  

“Mon fils, quelqu’un essaie de ressusciter les morts,” the old man said, before bidding his son farewell and good health.  

Someone is trying to raise the dead, in Paris of all places.  An ancient city built up over time upon the graves of each passing era in history.  Victims of plagues, victims of political upheavals in general,  victims of famine, victims of religious wars of the past.  Stéphane knew nothing of these dark arts, and knew not what was possible.  The wheels started turning, however.  His dark visions suddenly made more sense - the chanting, the movement of the bones, what appeared to be reanimation.  The catacombs.  My god, the Catacombes de Paris.  The suspicious inquiries of his client, if he was even truly a client at all.  Things were starting to add up, in ways that he had not expected.  The remainder of his walk home was littered with thoughts and ideas about what to do with this major, yet single piece of information. 

Upon returning to his flat, Stéphane sent off a quick email.  Ironically, he had a meeting scheduled with the catacomb client today, one that he had no issue canceling/rescheduling for a later date, given the circumstances.  Bookcases lined the walls of his place,  almost 80% of his wall space entirely occupied by books.  Starting counterclockwise, he methodically searched the stacks, looking for a small, nondescript book.  The knowledge contained there had been passed down for generations, each new Nelson taking up the task of transcribing their own copies, and adding to it as necessary.  Some had called them Scripturums, others called them Grimoires.  There were endless variations on the name.  The contents were similar - arcane knowledge, folklore, and interesting tidbits on family history.  Stéphane had recorded his in a thick, but small notebook, its pages an old-time parchment like paper, bound together with an external hard cover wrapped in a deep green suede.  

When he was making it, he liked to think that the green reflected the natural, more feral aspects of his ancestors, the Fae of Langue d’Oc.  When he was younger, he had idolized their bravery, as legends had told that they chose to integrate into human populations instead of remaining separate and hidden.  The legends never said why, however, and after time passed, he started to realize that a lot of the natural habits of fae seemed to dominate the half-fae, in the worst way.  Flightiness?  Transiency?  An unnatural tendency to utterly detach from loved ones?  He had felt that from his family, and in the worst way, replicated those same behaviors.  It seemed that his separation from them had spared his youngest son from experiencing those same issues, at least this far.  Just as he had ruminated on those aspects, his hand brushed the gentle suede of his own Grimoire, and he pulled it steadily off the shelf.  Opening it up, he looked gingerly through the pages, searching for anything that seemed to be of use, scanning for keywords, like la mort.  He cursed himself for choosing such a small volume in his youth, and for writing with a fountain pen for the flourishes.  Suddenly, a passage caught his attention:  la Nécromancie.  

“Necromancy?” He whispered to himself, seized by a cold fear.  Reading the passage to himself, he cringed slightly, terrified of its implications. 

Necromancy

Perhaps one of the darkest of the magical arts, and most perverse.  Necromancy requires magical beings to surrender much of the innate sentient goodness they possess.  The magic itself breaks several laws of both the physical and magical universes.  Even well intentioned incantations can bring about unforeseen consequences, but the consequences of necromancy are damning for the Casters and subjects alike.  Almost anything can be subject to its touch, and subjects in various states - bones to flesh.  Usually, even powerful necromancers cannot muster influence over more than a handful of subjects, as the energies needed to do so are immense.  Fire can break the hold of a necromancer on its subjects, with damage; the power of the fae can break those influences as well.

Stéphane Nelson had not emitted fae-fire in a very long time, at least a decade, if he remembered correctly.  When his heart had finally told him that his place was no longer in the UK, but rather in France; when he separated from Sarah and left his boys behind at young, impressionable ages.  When he decided to break the cycle of somehow handing down the worst of the fae tendencies to his children.  As he sat there, reading the small segment in his Grimoire about Necromancy, he wondered if there were any other ways, because he kept telling himself over and over again that it would be impossible for him to do it.  His heart had been so hardened over the past ten years of relative seclusion, he looked at his free hand and examined it bleakly.  Even for his favorite son, would he be able to ignite his inner fire?  Would he be able to extinguish the darkness of the Necromancer with his fae-fire, to save his son?  As he mulled his shortcomings as a father, and his pathetic state as a half-fairy, he got a notification on his phone.  

Nicholas:  Papa.  Appelle-moi!  C’est très important.  Je dois te dire quelque chose d'important.  Je pense que mes amis sont en danger.  

In Southern Spain, Rosa toiled in a garden outside of her cottage.  The heat earlier in the year had really done a number on her perennials, which had naturally thought that spring came early, and started germinating.  The past few months were an ongoing struggle to wrangle everything back into health.  The past three months had been especially bizarre in her life, beside the intensive garden work.  She had taken up the role of mentor to her best friend’s grandson’s casting abilities, and had started written correspondence with his father as well.  Julio Spring was concerned that she was telling his son half-truths, lies, and the worst about him, but she assured him that she felt everything that had happened was his story to tell.  He admitted little to her beyond the fact that when he was younger, he could poorly control his powers as an igniter.  Again, not her stories to tell, at least not verbally to anyone.  Their correspondences had caused her to dream about those memories on and off over the months, some of which were fine, but others which she had no desire whatsoever to recount.  She toyed with magically warding off dreams, but knew that such a thing generally had consequences for someone, somewhere, especially if magic was involved in any way.  That was difficult to sort through, too, when a dream was influenced by magic, and when it was wholly our brains, our humanity at work, best to leave it, or someone else could end up seeing young Julio Spring’s past.

Several weeks prior, Julio’s father had called her about something that he found while digging around in the attic, that probably had belonged to his wife.  Not being magically inclined, he dared not touch it, as it was wrapped in a special linen that she had used as both a physical and magical barrier against items that she perceived to be, at best, tainted by shadows, or at worst, purely evil.  He led her up to the attic, to a rugged looking mini-chest made of oak, stained a deep cherry-red.  The metal fixings of the chest were jet black, almost cast-iron in appearance.  Rosa knew of this chest.  At some point, it had been officially designated as the “dark pit,” because anything that the coven had come across that was too dark, too difficult, too problematic to handle or even consider, yet too dangerous to be left out in the world, got thrown in there.  

“Thank you for reminding me about this,” she said.  “Do you mind if I take this chest with me?  I think…I think there’s a lot of very bad things in here.”   He simply nodded, and descended back down the ladder.  “A man of few words, as always,” Rosa thought. 

Thankfully, the box was not too heavy.  This was a reflection of both the coven’s work to deal with dark artifacts they encountered, and the fact that they simply had not come across that many of them.  Returning home, Rosa instinctively set about warding her home, magically.  She was not certain, but she had a bad feeling that hosting dark magic trinkets could act like a beacon to malicious entities.  She would do additional work on the area later, but needed enough up to feel like she could begin looking through the contents of the box.  She hummed to herself as she moved around the periphery of her small property.  “A Caster’s work is never done,” she thought to herself, “even in old age.”  Once she was satisfied, she went back in for some fruited agua fresca, a delicacy her cousin in Mexico had taught her how to make.  

Rosa put a pair of leather gloves, ones that she used for such work, ones that she had imbued and recited incantations over to protect herself.  Anxiously, she approached the chest, her right hand quivering as she touched the latch.  She felt as if she was opening Pandora’s Box, set to unleash untold evils on the world.  Taking a breath, she undid the latch, and flung open the chest.  No shadows, no darkness, but incredibly off putting auras.  One of Rosa’s powers was the ability to detect auras, dark, light and everything in between, and despite the protective wrappings around artifacts, she could still feel those nettling, dark auras radiating.  The elder Mr. Spring had tossed whatever he found on the top of the pile, so she reached in cautiously to extract it.  The artifact felt light in her hands.  Opening the flap on the covering, she cautiously turned the contents out into her left hand.  A glistening gemstone fell out, more than modestly sized, perhaps even over 5 carats.  Surprised that something so large could feel so light, she continued inspecting it.  The cut of the gemstone appeared to be Marquis, almost as if it were to resemble the pupil of a serpent.  That imagery was only further reinforced as she examined its coloration, the primary color of which was black.  A jet black, percolated with noxious combinations of emerald, ruby, and citrine.  A black opal.  

Lifting her right hand over it, she uttered, “Revela secrata” over it.  Black sparks flew up over it, hissing hungrily at the air.  Suddenly, a wave of stench washed over the room.  Rosa felt ill upon smelling it.  Death.  The smell of death.  Although she knew not its purpose, she immediately knew its connection to the foulest of magics.  Necromancy.  She tipped it back into the linen wrappings, cast it back into the chest, and shut the chest expeditiously, securing the clasp.  She was going to have to find a solution to this problem.

The return trip to the hotel for snacks and regrouping was tense.  Nick could feel it in the air around him, except with Charlie.  Charlie knew something was wrong, as he had given them the usual look to non-verbally communicate it.  He did not know how wrong things had gone, and to the extent he felt absolutely fucked .   The worst part was that it was partly his fault, because his idiot brain had gotten him and Darcy completely lost, but at the same time, if he had done nothing, he and Darcy would have been utterly cannibalized by what appeared to be an animated sack of flesh.  Basically, fucked either way.  It really ate away at him, on top of the fact that tension was also radiating from Tao and Elle.  The only thing he could even remotely think that had to do with was their “alone time” at the Musée de Montmartre.  But perhaps it went even deeper?  Tao held onto some mysterious looking book, so they must have gone somewhere else.  There were so many tangled possibilities here, and the tension radiating from them did not feel like awkward romance tension, but something else entirely.  Thankfully traffic did not hold them up too long, and before he knew it, they were all filing off the coach.  

Before he could reach the hotel entrance, his phone started ringing, loudly.  Startled by the noise, he immediately checked it, half expecting to see his mother calling him.  Instead, he was shocked to see that it was his father calling him.  His father, actually calling him.  He scrambled to accept the call, finding the bench near the entrance that he had sat on the prior night.  

Nick: Allô, Papa?

St é phane: Allô Nicholas.  Que fais-tu maintenant?

Nick: Ah.  Nous venons de retourner à l'hôtel.  Nous passons la journée à Montmartre.

Stéphane: Ah bon. J'espère que tu t’amuses.  Que fais-tu ce soir?  Je voudrais te voir.

Nick: Nous n’avons pas encore décidé.  Après le dîner, je pense que j’ai du temps libre.

Stéphane: D’accord.  Texte-moi l'adresse de ton hôtel.  C’est important.  Nous devons parler.

Nick: Bien sûr.  Je te verrai ce soir.  Au revoir. 

Stéphane: Au revoir, Nicholas.  Soit prudent!

He had barely finished the call when he registered that Charlie was standing right next to him, his face bright pink, his eyes staring dreamily, his mouth contorted languidly.  Nick looked up at him, half-aware that he was in a daze, and also partly confused as to why he looked so struck simply by standing there.  

“Uh, Charlie…Can I help you?” Nick asked, tilting his head to indicate his confusion.  

Charlie snapped to.  “Uh, I mean…not really, I guess.  But also, like…I know that you speak French fluently, but to witness it and really hear it gives me butterflies in my stomach, makes me feel flush, and my throat just…gets dry,” he stammered out.  

Nick just laughed.  “Come here and sit next to me, and we can talk,” he said, seeing that basically everyone had headed inside, including the teachers.  Charlie plopped down next to him.   Nick swallowed, suddenly feeling tense. 

“Go on, spill,” Charlie said, poking Nick’s arm.  

“Alright, alright.  I mean, you probably guessed, but that was my dad.  He wants to come here and meet with me tonight.  I…I don’t really know why.  I can only imagine that it has something to do with my sexuality, or something to do with David telling him something about that, or…” he broke off, suddenly.  

Charlie took his hand, suddenly, giving it a small squeeze.  “Listen, Nick.  We can, I don’t know…set something up so that I’m nearby, just in case it goes south?  But I have a feeling it won’t.  Why would your dad, who hardly talks to you regularly, go out of his way to meet up with you to berate you over your sexuality?” 

He made a good point.  He knew his father well enough to know that he had never once uttered anything even mildly homophobic in front of him or his brother.  In fact, his general attitude seemed to be almost…hippy-like?  Very independent and free-spirited.  Nick just shrugged his shoulders.  

“All of that aside…there’s something else,” Nick said.  

Charlie’s face dropped.  “Oh yeah… that ,” he said, referencing the look Nick had given him. 

Nick spoke, quietly, afraid of someone overhearing their conversation.  Honestly, it was a bit daft to have such a conversation in the middle of the day, out in public, but their choices were honestly constricted.  

“Well, you probably noticed, but it took Darcy and I a long time to get ice cream and get back,” he said.

Charlie nodded, motioning for him to continue the conversation.  

“We sort of…got lost.  Mostly my fault.  Despite loving geography, I am apparently crap at navigation on street view,” he said, chuckling faintly.   “I’m sorry, I have to laugh at that, because it really sets up the worst of it all,” he said.  

“What happened?  I’m on edge here.  Like…completely,” Charlie said, anxiety welling up in his face.  

“Well, we were in an alleyway, behind some stores.  We heard some rustling, and a big rat came out from a pile of trash, which totally scared us.  I was trying to see if it made sense to just double back or continue following the alleyway to get where we wanted to go, when Darcy saw something odd.  I looked over, and there was a human arm sticking out of the trash,” he said, flustered. 

“An arm?  Like a detached arm?  What?”  Charlie looked agog.  

“Not a detached arm.  In fact, it was attached to a body.  And that body was not living.  But it was also…moving.  There was a moving dead body in the alleyway, Charlie,” he said, spitting out the last half of his words in quick succession.  

“What. What the actual fuck , Nick,” was all Charlie could get out, utterly shocked.  

“It gets worse.  I had no idea what to do about that, both of us were rooted in the spot, and then it started moving toward us, menacingly, and I panicked,” he said, very upset at recollecting the details.  

Charlie finished the rest of his thoughts for him.  “And so…you fired off fae-fire at it.  In front of Darcy.  But because you had to get back in time for the coach, you have yet to really explain anything to her, so she’s probably upstairs in her room in a state of total shock and confusion?” 

Nick just blinked at him, slowly.  “Yes.  Exactly that.  Smallest silver-lining, it broke whatever magic was doing that, but now there’s a random corpse in that alleyway, and…well, Darcy is probably exactly as you described,” he said, breathless.  

Charlie stared at his boyfriend.  Nick could not tell if he was mad, disappointed, or anything.  But he did look incredibly anxious, because this was exactly along the lines of his nightmare scenarios of friends finding out about magic.  Before either of them could have any sort of conversation on the best response, Isaac appeared out of nowhere.  

“So, I’m calling a meeting of the friend group.  Well, most of the friend group.  It is way too early on this trip to have palpable tension present, and I am resolving to get to the bottom of this,” he said, adamantly.  

“And by friend group, do you mean…everyone?  Or just a few specific people?”  Nick asked cautiously.  

“Well…Sahar wanted to nap, so we’ll leave her out of it, but Tara, Darcy, Elle, Tao, and I…and obviously you two.  Something is obviously going on, and we need to talk about it.  I won’t have my trip to Paris ruined by some feuding, or anything silly,” he said, almost forcefully.  Incredibly determined Isaac was quite scary.  

Nick and Charlie just glanced at each other, and nodded.  If ever there was a time, it was now, when even a simple walk around a touristy area could lead to danger.  Their friends would have to find out, for their own safety.  Darcy already knew, and before long she would spill to Tara.  Better off to rip the bandaid off then, and in a way that actually could be controlled.  He and Charlie nodded at Isaac, and got off the bench.  This certainly would be interesting.  

Chapter Text

Isaac marched them to room 414, silently, filing into the elevator in lieu of the steps, given how everyone had walked for hours around Montmartre.  Charlie did not like that, at all.  The notion of going through with things, telling his friends about magic, was enough to make him ill as it was, but the added silence really brought it deeper into the anxiety attack zone.  Nick squeezed his hand as they waited for the elevator to ascend, and he breathed deeply through it all.  Each floor they climbed felt like an eternity to him, each arrival ping a notification of his impending doom.  Finally, they reached the fourth floor, the sound pinging their arrival, the doors slowly opening up to the corridor.  As they walked to the room, they realized that Elle, Tara, and Darcy were all waiting outside;  Tao apparently had not granted them entry yet.  

Upon seeing them, Tara immediately had questions.  “Does anyone want to fill me in as to why we’re having this sudden meeting, minus Sahar, and why everyone seems frightfully tense?”  

Darcy looked like she had seen a ghost, and simply just shrugged her shoulders.  Elle, significantly more composed, responded with, “Well, we’ll just have to ask Nick about that.”  

Nick’s left eyebrow cocked up a bit.  Charlie immediately inserted himself.  “What are you implying, Elle?”  he asked.  

Elle just shook her head, and knocked on the door.  Tao opened it quickly, and motioned for everyone to file in.  It was simply bizarre, how it was all happening, like they were being brought before some super secret tribunal to hear some criminal case.  Once they were all inside the room, Isaac turned to lock the door.  Darcy and Tara had sat on the window-side bed, Elle and Tao had propped themselves up against the far wall, and Nick and Charlie had sunk into the bed closest to the door.  “Closest to the escape route,” was all Charlie could think.  Isaac, who apparently had organized all of this, took charge in starting things off.  

“I think we can all see and readily agree that something is quite off.  We’ve been here for one full day, and something is incredibly off,” he said.   “Well, who wants to start?” he asked, looking around the room with a serious look on his face.  

Elle started off, immediately.  “I’m going to say it again, ask Nick.  Darcy looked absolutely disheveled after the apparent ice cream run,” she said, her tone incredibly accusatory.   Charlie wanted to say something immediately, but before he got the chance, Darcy spoke up. 

“We got lost in an alleyway, and a large rodent ran out from a pile of trash and practically attacked me,” she said, looking down at her feet a bit, nervously.  

Tara, who at that point had looked utterly confused, immediately turned to her girlfriend and said, “What are you leaving out?  You’re lying about something, I know it.  Anytime you lie, you look down at your feet,” she said, anxiously.    Darcy just shook her head, vehemently, tears starting to pool up in her eyes.  

Tao spoke up this time.  “I know she’s not telling the full story.  Elle and I both saw it, from an antique shop.  Nick…did something weird,” he said.  

Charlie gripped Nick’s hand, steadying him, but before either of them could say anything, Darcy re-inserted herself into the conversation, tearfully. 

“Listen, Nick saved me.  I don’t know how, but he saved me.  I don’t know what you two think you saw, but I am sitting here, mildly traumatized, but safe, because Nick saved me,” she said, her voice in between determined and sobbing . Tara gripped her hand.  

Elle, who was frustrated, came back into the conversation.  “Then what was that, Nelson?  Explain yourself.  There was something more there than Parisian rodents, and we all know we saw something peculiar.  Out with it!” she said, demandingly.  

Darcy squeaked out, “I too, would like to know what happened, solely so I can process it, recover, and enjoy the rest of this trip,” she said, spluttering a bit.  

Nick started shaking a bit, anxiety clearly overtaking him.  He swallowed a bit, his throat drying up.  The entire room had turned its attention to him, waiting for him to speak.  He was struggling to get anything out, almost like his throat was closing up.  Charlie started rapidly stroking his arm, trying to silently encourage him, to tell him it would be okay.  He started to sweat a bit, and turn pink, when finally he was able to squeak out,

“I’m part fairy.”  

Tao looked at him, utterly confused.  Elle stared at him, a blank expression on her face. Tara looked between Darcy, Charlie, and Nick trying to make any sort of sense of the situation.  Isaac, arms folded, looked at them all, gauging their reactions.  Suddenly, Darcy let out a squeak of laughter, unlike her usual laughter.  

“I mean, isn’t that readily apparent?  We know you’re bisexual Nick.  Most of us are part fairy here, in some way.  Or a full fairy, in Charlie’s case,” she said nonchalantly.  “I just want to know how you shot light out of your hand at a seemingly reanimated dead body.”  

Simultaneously, Tara, Elle, Tao, and Isaac all said, “WHAT?”  

Nick’s eyes were starting to tear up a bit now.  “I told you..I am part fairy. Part. Fairy,” he repeated, unable to convey more than the simplest truth of it all . 

Everyone stood in silence, a feeling of disbelief and a suspension of reality hanging amongst them.  Someone had to say something, the silence was killing Charlie.  He was afraid to say more about magic, about what was going on.  Tao filled the silence, after another moment had passed.  

“Isaac, you’re the most well read of all of us.  What is your take on this?”  he asked with some uncertainty.  

Isaac shrugged a little.  “I mean, I am not super into fantasy stuff, but from what I have read and what I know about folklore, and Disney, naturally, is that a fairy is a magical being,” he said simply.  

Darcy turned to Nick.  “So…is that what you are, then?  A magical being?  Because if I had to describe what had happened in that alleyway, I would say that it was definitely nothing but supernatural and magical,” she said, an air of certainty in her voice that was only minutes ago sobbing.  

Nick nodded his head, staring down at the floor.  He felt ashamed, and embarrassed by this whole situation, like his friends had just discovered some dirty little secret and were starting to slowly pick him apart over it.  Before he could say anything, Tao had jumped back into the conversation, turning to Charlie.  

“And what about you?  Did you know this Charlie?  You must have.  I can’t imagine that you don’t know about it,” he said, almost defensively, which caught both Charlie and Nick off guard.  Why was Tao reacting like this? 

Panic started to set in now.  Charlie’s pulse quickened, his heart thumping in his chest.  I could feel the muscles in his chest start to tighten, to constrict.  His breathing began to accelerate.  Nick sensed these changes instantly, turning to him, and bringing him into an embrace.  

Elle started scolding Tao.  “Tao, seriously?  Look at him! I think he’s having an anxiety attack right now.  Back off!”  she said, harshly.  

Suddenly, Tao snapped out of his sudden burst of anger, looking at his friend shuddering, almost convulsing on the bed.  Tara and Darcy looked at each other, and then Isaac.  

“Should we go get one of the teachers?” Isaac asked, his voice full of concern and also panic.  The others looked at each other, at Nick cradling Charlie tightly, at Isaac, and just froze.  

Charlie’s mind was still racing, but he could feel things starting to pass.  Nick’s arms were wrapped around him, the pressure feeling like an amazing release of the tightness that had built up.  Nick’s familiar scent tickled his nose, reminding him about love and light.  Nick’s soft voice told him to breathe, to mimic his breathing as closely as possible.  Nick’s gentle hands rubbed his shoulder-blades in a circular motion, calming him down.  After a few minutes had passed, the majority of the anxiety attack had passed.  He still felt some tension in his chest, but his breathing had regulated and his mind was no longer spinning wildly.  It was as if Nick was siphoning off his anxiety, just enough to prevent him from going over the edge. 

Before anyone else could say anything, Elle crossed her arms and simply said, “We need to stop this now.  Clearly there’s something there, that we aren’t meant to be a part of, that Charlie would love to talk about, but it literally is hurting him to talk about it.”  Tao just gazed at her blankly.  Isaac nodded  along in agreement.  Darcy looked like she was going to object, but Tara put her hand on her girlfriend’s arm firmly, as if to say, “Just don’t.”   Before anyone could get up, or walk out of the room, Charlie finally spoke.  

“No,” he croaked out.  “I…I need to say some things to you all,” he said, hoarsely.  Nick continued to hug him, albeit not as tightly as before.  He looked around the room, certain that he had everyone’s attention again.  

“I just have to start with the fact that I’ve been having awful dreams of this exact scenario for months now.  Just not as specific as this,” he said, calmly.  Nick gave him another squeeze of support.

Charlie fished out the lunar pendant from under his t-shirt, showing it to his friends.  All of them looked at it, perplexed and intrigued.  Elle touched it, gently.  

“It is beautiful, Charlie.  But what does it have to do with anything?” she asked, curiously. 

“Everything, Elle.  It has everything to do with all of this,” he said, quietly.  

He looked up, and all of their eyes were again on him.  Nick had pulled back a little bit, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek for encouragement, but continued to keep a firm grip on his right hand.  Charlie took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind and continue to keep himself calm. 

“When I was in Spain, at my abuela’s funeral, one of her friends gave this to me.  She said that my grandmother wanted me to have it, that it would help me find answers to questions that I had.  Which, in retrospect, was quite interesting to say, because the truly major question I had at the time was if Nick was straight or not,” he said, chuckling lightly.  Darcy snorted lightly, Tara smiled at him weakly, and Tao rolled his eyes.  

“And?” Elle asked, softly.  

“Well…under the light of the moon, it lit a pathway. For me.  Magically .”  

He got up off of the bed, releasing his hand from Nick’s and walked over to his suitcase.  They all followed him, in silence, unable to look away from him.  He sorted through his belongings, in an organized fashion of course, until he found the Book in them.  He pulled it out, and brought it back over to the bed with him, its blue and yellow leather glistening in the room lighting.  Eyes that had previously followed him were now glued to the leather-bound tome that rested on his lap.  

“And that path led to me discovering this…family heirloom.  A detailed encyclopedia of magical knowledge spanning centuries, no…almost two millennia,” he continued, quietly.  

Tao, who had been listening intently, finally asked, “So…you’re a wizard?  A warlock?  A witch? Like…this is barely even believable, at all.  How are we supposed to even believe a word of this?”  He sounded rather incredulous.  

Before Charlie could even respond, Nick held out his right hand in front of him, the palm facing toward the ceiling.  Charlie knew exactly what he was going to do, but did not stop him.  Nick took a deep breath, concentrating intensely, his left hand intertwined with Charlie’s right hand again.  After a moment of collecting himself, tendrils of light began sparkling out of the palm of his hand, their light crackling noise softly radiating across the room.  Their friend group stared intently at him as he continued to let the light flow out.

Darcy, who had already seen this in action, softly said, “Yeah.  That’s it.”  

Elle and Tao looked at each other, with Elle then saying, “We saw it, too.  From the upstairs of the antique shop we visited after the museum.”  

Nick started to reduce the light, and then shook out his hand.  “It is fae-fire.  The magical energy that a fairy can give off to protect itself and others,” he said, quietly, his eyes darting around the room, gauging their reactions.  

This time, Charlie re-entered the conversation.  “So, to answer what you’re all probably thinking.  Yes, not only are we dating, but we’re a magical duo as well.  And, to answer your question earlier, Tao, I prefer to go by the term Caster.”

“A caster?  You do spells?  Prove it!” Tao said, crossing his arms tensely.  

“Tao, my god, just shut up!  Why do you require proof, when Nick’s literally shooting light out of his hands?”  Elle said, disgruntled.  Tao just shot daggers at her with his eyes. 

Charlie chuckled.  “I could always cast to make him shut up for a couple of hours, if you’d all like to see that,” Charlie said.  

Immediately, this piqued Darcy’s interest.  “Oh, yeah!  I would be incredibly interested in how that works.  Although I must admit, we still have to go to dinner and everything, so I don’t really think that would be nice or fair to Tao,” she said.   Charlie laughed at how tame she went with it in the end.  

“Believe me, he’s done it on my homophobic brother already…it was quite the site,” Nick said, chuckling quietly, resting his head on Charlie’s shoulder.    

Tara, who had been incredibly quiet, suddenly said, “I would actually pay to see that, Nick.  I remember your brother from years ago.  He was an absolute knob then, too.”  

Isaac, who had mostly quietly observed the room, finally spoke.  “Charlie…this will come off weirdly rude, but…what do you do?  I mean, I’m not going to ask you to show off or anything, but do you do something like Nick does?”  he asked, inquisitively.

Charlie nodded to Isaac, slowly, considering his words.  “Well…I don’t do anything quite like Nick does.  That’s sort of what makes us such a good team, he’s almost like…crud, I can’t make this into a rugby reference, none of you would get it except for him,” he laughed a bit.  Nick also chuckled, squeezing his hand again.  

He started again. “I can’t shoot light out of my hands, but I do have a power, which I realized the day my grandmother died,” he said.  

Isaac simply said, “And?” motioning for him to continue describing it.  

“Well, it can’t be seen by anyone per se.  I…I…I get visions.  I see glimpses of future events, sometimes even hearing parts of them,” he said, nervously.  His friends all sort of were in one of two camps with reactions – one in which their faces were completely blank (Isaac, Darcy, Tara) or one in which their mouths were wide open (Elle, Tao).  

Charlie continued.  “I’ve really only seen…bad things.  Things that I’ve needed to work to prevent.  Which kind of really brings us back to what happened today.”  

“The dead body?” Tara asked.  “Yeah, I’ve been dwelling on that whole part in the background of all the other news,” she said, an uncomfortable look on her face.  

Charlie simply nodded.  “There’s definitely something happening in Paris, something magical, as evidenced by a reanimated dead body.  Before we left for Paris, I had a vision in which I saw some mildly disturbing things, bones, and heard a funeral dirge.  I think all the dots are starting to connect,” he said, sighing.  

Isaac piped in again.  “Is that why you asked me about the Catacombes de Paris?” he asked.  

Nick, who had been quiet for a bit now, replied, “That’s exactly why, Isaac.  We need to do a bit of investigation there.  Somehow, they’re involved in this mystery.”  Charlie nodded along with him, before continuing the conversation. 

“I know…that this is a lot.  But we need to set some guidelines here, because this is too important,” he said, his voice full of urgency, yet still shaky.  Everyone refocused on him at that moment. 

He continued, “We cannot tell anyone outside of this circle about this.  Not Sahar, not yet at least.  Definitely not Imogen.  I will literally hex us all if I have to, and if anyone spills, the end results will be more than mildly unpleasant.”   Everyone looked at him, wide-eyed at that comment. 

“Furthermore, as far as I know, none of you have any magical abilities.  I cannot put any of you in harm's way by getting directly involved, so if you had any sort of dreams about helping us out, put those out of your mind,” he said, with an almost commanding voice.   Nick nodded, chiming in with a  soft affirmation of what Charlie said.  The only person even remotely disappointed by that statement was Darcy, who looked like she was about to protest.  

Nick thought of some practical aspects.  “We…uh…should have a code word for this all.  Obviously if you are concerned about something, or if you see something while we’re out around town, we can’t really scream about magic and stuff…so…maybe…um…we call it…pamplemousse?”  

Elle practically cackled.  “Refer to it as a grapefruit?  People are going to think we’re oh so totally sane when we do that,” she said sarcastically.  

Tao, laughing a bit, replied, “It isn’t a dumb idea though, really.  Makes sense.  If we can’t tell people, but can’t also talk about it when necessary, who knows what would happen?” 

Charlie nodded.  “Okay, pamplemousse it is.  That is one of my favorite French words, coincidentally,” he said, smirking.  Charlie finished off by saying, “I know you probably have loads more questions, but in the interest of not totally overwhelming you all like we were when we first found out, I think we should rest further questions for later dates.”  Everyone looked at him nodding in agreement.  Tao seemed the most unconvinced about everything, and looked like he was thinking about pestering Charlie all evening.  Elle kept glancing at him with eyes that said “Respect the boundaries!”

Before they broke up the meeting, Nick did think of one more practicality.  “Oh, actually though…we were planning on investigating the Catacombes two days from now, when we do the Louvre visit.  We might actually need you all to run interference for us around Mr. Farouk and Mr. Ajayi.  Isaac?”  he turned to Isaac, who was beaming.

“I’m already thinking up multiple scenarios we can cook up to distract them,” he said.  Darcy grinned devilishly at his words.  

Before they left the room to take naps and get ready for dinner, Tara decided to speak her mind some more, too, as if she wanted some finality to clear the air.   

“I know that this is a lot, but…I hope that no one take this information the wrong way, because…well…outside of magic, we all need each other.  The community and camaraderie we all have together has helped me so much the past few months, and I know it's helped Darcy.  Just…think of that, if you’re feeling weird or upset about anything that happened today,” she said.  

On that note, the girls started filing out of the room, and the guys started to get comfortable on their beds.  Isaac had moved over with Tao for the nap time, giving Charlie and Nick some much needed comfort cuddle time.  The emotions had run high and finally were subsiding, leaving behind exhausted teenagers.  Charlie was really trying to shut out his intrusive thoughts.  He breathed quietly, trying to get into a semi-meditative state.  They just kept gnawing at him, over and over and over.  Darcy seemed intrigued.  Tara was holding on to them, regardless of how she really felt.  Isaac seemed legitimately concerned and curious about it all.  Elle felt maternal-like concern about how it impacted both him and Nick.  But Tao…that was the worst of it all.  His reaction stung, a mixture of disbelief, anger, and, if Charlie detected properly, a twinge of disgust?  This was the worst point for Charlie to dwell on, and his intrusive thoughts emphasized it the most.  You’re going to lose your best friend , they told him.  Redoubling his efforts to shut them out, he finally started to gain a sense of calm.   Just as Charlie was beginning to doze off a bit, his phone pinged.  

Messages:  Darcy Olsson, Charlie:

Darcy: In your experience with pamplemousse, have you ever wished or willed something into existence?  Like…made it just materialize?

Charlie: ???? I don’t follow.  

Darcy:  I’ll describe to you later.  Today has just…given me a lot to think about.  Have a good nap.  

Charlie: Okay then, you too.

He put his phone away, and turned over, allowing Nick to be the big spoon for their afternoon nap session.  Since silencing his earlier thoughts, he drifted off, easily, his mind not really plagued by the dreams that haunted before.  If there was one thing the day had achieved, it had put the nail in the coffin on the “Friends finding out” portion of the anxiety dreams.  Sometime into his drifting off, he felt super at ease, like he had no care in the world, almost as if he was totally unconscious, yet he still maintained a tethered sense of awakeness.  Was he dreaming?  He felt like it was a dream.  He felt like he was floating.  Suddenly, a shift to darkness occurred, and then he was in an unknown location, a room of some sort, the walls a deeply stained cherry wood.  A solitary pedestal occupied the center of the room, the focus of some mysterious light sources.  He walked up to the pedestal, curious of what sat on it.  Before his eyes, a modestly sized gemstone, black like the night sky, bespeckled with vivid blues, greens, and orange-yellows.  He reached out, to touch it, to examine it, but just as his hand was close to touching it, an alarm went off in the back of his mind, and he was stirring.  He had started cuddling with Nick around 4:15 PM, and now it was 5:20 PM.  Was that a dream?  

Their dinner proved to be adequately awkward.  Sahar was utterly confused at first, but seemed to buy the excuses that everyone was tired, that naps have proved to be insufficient, and that overall they had a really great, exciting day, despite it being a hot mess of excitement and utter disbelief.  Nick checked his phone to see that his dad was set to arrive in 10 minutes, so he finished up some more of his food.  The general ill ease of the evening was suppressing his usually voracious appetite.  He showed Charlie the message, who nodded and squeezed out of the booth to let him get up, which piqued Darcy’s interest.

“Pamplemousse?” she said, almost expectant of something happening.  

“Eh, no, no grapefruit.  My dad is stopping by to see me,” he replied, sheepishly.   Darcy just nodded, as Nick made his way to exit to the dining room. 

The next five minutes felt like the longest five minutes in Nick’s life, besides when he kissed Charlie at Harry’s party for the first time.  That was a good long five minutes, this was the opposite though.  It was just his father, yet he was wracked with anxiety, his nerves heightened.  The day had been disastrous in so many ways, and now he faced the possibility of coming out to his father on top of it all.  From afar, he saw his father approach, and he took a deep breath in, trying to calm himself.

“Bonjour papa,” Nick said, getting up to hug his father.  

“Bonjour Nicholas,’ his father replied, accepting his hug.  “Fais-tu une promenade avec moi?”  

“D’accord,” Nick said, joining his father on the impromptu walk.  Not sure what to say, or where this was going, Nick continued with genialities.  “Ca va bien, papa?”  

His father paused for a second.  “Comme ci, comme ça.  Le travail est difficile maintenant.  Je ne dors pas bien.  A cause de mes mauvais rêves."  

Nick cocked his head toward his father, pausing their walk.  The coincidences were too striking to be unimportant.  “Des mauvais rêves?"  De quoi?”

His father replied, "Ces rêves te concernent, et…et…la nécromancie."  He had stuttered a bit at the last part.  

Nick was not sure what his father knew then about him.  This…was not about his bisexuality, but rather his magical status.  They kept walking, with some silence between them.  “Je sais, papa.  Nous sommes fées.  Nous sommes magiques,” Nick said quietly.  His father nodded quietly at him.  “Que faisons-nous de la nécromancie?" Nick asked, frightened.  

His father turned to him. “Je ne sais pas encore,” he said.  “Je veux t’aider,” he said, his voice honest and clear. 

Nick blushed a bit.  He barely remembered a moment when he and his father had felt this connected and together.  Never mind it was regarding something so dark and awful, but it was still…connection.  

Nick said, “Mon…eh….” Nick stopped for a second.  He could not do this right now.  One sort of “coming out” or “realization” was already enough for tonight.  He could not tell his father about Charlie.  “Uh.  Mon ami, c’est une sorcière."   His father just smiled and laughed a bit. 

“Quelle coïncidence, Nicholas.  Mon dieu, quelle coïncidence,” he said heartily, patting Nick on the back.  Suddenly his phone went off, so he checked it briefly.  “Zut.  Je dois partir.  Envoie-moi un SMS, Nicholas.  Faites-moi savoir ce que vous faites!” He said, turning to walk the opposite direction from where they had gone.  

And just like that, he had disappeared into the night, as his father usually did.  Disappear.  And while Nick felt incredibly happy that at least he and his father were on the same level magically speaking, the brevity of their meeting and his inability to tell his father the even more important points about him, his life, his Charlie, really felt like a punch to the gut.

Chapter Text

Charlie saw Nick file into their room, looking a combination of tired and disappointed, collapsing face first onto his side of the bed.  Isaac just looked up at him with a curious look, his attention barely pulled away from his book.  

“Did things…not go well?  Or did he…not show up?”  Charlie asked, cautiously.   Nick just grunted in response and added a groan on top of it.  

“So…things did happen, but not as you expected?  Or…”  Charlie asked again, now starting to get annoyed with his boyfriend’s lack of use of words.  

Nick lifted his face out of the pillow.  “I couldn’t come out to him.  I just…froze a bit,” he said, before groaning again, and then…sniffling a bit.  Was he crying?  

“I mean, I called you my friend!  My friend!  Ugh!”  he exclaimed, throwing his head back in frustration with himself, his eyes teary and red.  

Charlie came over to the bed and sat down right next to Nick, putting an arm around his shoulders, squeezing him tightly.  “As we’ve said before…you get to control the pace of this, Nick.  Don’t feel bad about not coming out to him.  You owe him nothing of the sort,” he said, calmly.  He gave Nick a quick kiss on the cheek.  

“I just…never know when I’ll get to see him, you know?  I feel pressure to do it whenever possible,” he said, looking downtrodden thinking about it.  

Isaac, who had been reading quietly, added, “Well, that’s on him, isn’t it?  I mean, I get why you want your dad to know, but if he’s not going to meet you halfway, then you shouldn’t feel bad.”

Tao, who had been sitting quietly, asked, “What did you two talk about then?  You were gone long enough for it to be more than a simple hello.”  

“Oh.  Mm.  Pamplemousse,” Nick replied, awkwardly.  

Charlie looked surprised.  “Wait, you actually talked magic with your father?”  Nick nodded his reply.  

“Shocker…my father is apparently very aware of who we are as a family, and what that means.  He’s vowed to help us out, if he can figure out how to do so,” Nick said.   “It was the strongest bit of connection I’ve felt with him in years.”  

“So, your father is a part-fairy, too?”  Isaac asked.  Tao looked over at him, very much interested in the answer.  

“I suppose so.  He did not deny it, but wasn’t super effusive about it,” Nick replied.  

“Interesting.  What else did he say?  I mean, if he’s offering to help, he must know something else?”  Charlie asked.

Nick swallowed, with a little difficulty.  His face seemed to pale a bit, and he tensed up a bit.  “He…he said it had something to do with Necromancy,” Nick said. Charlie looked at him, uncertain.  

Isaac, who was no longer reading his book at this point, suddenly looked quite excited.  “What, are you joking?  So…Charlie is having dreams about ossuaries, the Catacombes de Paris practically, and on top of that, there’s death magic at play?  This is really beyond wild, you two,” he said, practically bugging with excitement.   Isaac apparently had read more fantasy novels then he actually let on. 

Tao looked super confused.  “Dreams?  What dreams?  I thought Charlie just had dreams about Nick in his tight rugby shorts,” he said sarcastically. 

“Tao!  I told you that in confidence!  Oh my god!”  Charlie buried his face in his hands.  Nick turned pink, but eyed his boyfriend mischievously.  Charlie got up, flustered, and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for bed.  Isaac, wanting a change of pace, got up and left the room, under the pretense of talking to Sahar about something Paris related. 

Wanting to take the heat off of Charlie, and to change the subject slightly, Nick retorted back to Tao, “Other than antiques and alleyway spying, did anything happen at the museum with you and Elle today, Tao?”  

Tao, suddenly defensive, responded quickly, “It was fine. Fine.  Besides the whole witnessing magic surprise.  What, was something supposed to happen? Nothing happened!”

“Uh…okay,” Nick replied, sheepishly. 

“We just walked around the museum, got some coffee at the cafe.  Totally normal,” he said.   

“Tao…did you ever consider telling Elle how you feel about her?” Nick asked cautiously.  

Tao immediately blushed at his own transparency, scrunching up his face and fitfully playing with his hair.  

“You don’t get it.  She’s the most amazing person in the world, and we’ve been through so much together as friends, including her coming out as trans.  Things have been shit for her, she’s been through all of that and she’s finally getting through it, has a new school, has new friends….all of it.  I simply can’t throw a wrench in things and change our relationship so much!”  he exclaimed, frustrated. 

Nick replied, “But what about what she wants?  I mean…Charlie took that risk with me, not being 100% certain…sometimes it’s worth taking the risk.”

“I just…I don’t know why she would be interested in me.  She’s so cool, interesting, and beautiful…and I’m just…me,” he said, defeated.   Before Nick could respond meaningfully, Tao got up and said, “I’m going to the vending machine.  Be back later…” and left the room.  

Just as Tao had left, Charlie came back into the room and asked, “What happened?”

“I…tried talking to him about Elle and totally fucked it up,” Nick said, frustrated slightly.  

“Don’t worry about it, Nick…he’s so stubborn.  I get why, though.  I felt the same way when I thought you were straight…terrified to do anything that might be misconstrued, scared to ruin the friendship we had,” Charlie said, standing over Nick, petting his hair gently.  

“Really?”  Nick asked.  Charlie nodded his head, and continued to pet Nick’s hair.  Something about running his fingers through his hair felt so right, so intimate and loving.  Nick lifted his arms and put his hands on Charlie’s hips, pulling him closer to Nick.  

“What?” Charlie asked, blushing slightly.  Nick just chuckled slightly and then suddenly pulled Charlie into a hug before falling backward onto the bed, Charlie toppling right on him.  Charlie cried out in surprise, but Nick continued his “attack” on Charlie, flipping him over so that Nick was now on his side, facing Charlie who was on his back now. 

“Hi,” Nick said, breathlessly.  

“Hi,” Charlie responded, his pulse quickening.  Where was this going?  The air between them was absolutely electric, resoundingly so, and dare Charlie say…highly sexually charged?  Charlie swallowed slightly.   Nick, sensing his discomfort, rolled clear over Charlie, and in doing so, pulled one of the sheets up over them both.  

“Captured!” Nick said valiantly.  

“Nick?!”  was all Charlie could get out.  

“Now you have to sleep in my bed,” Nick said, his eyes sweetly fixating on Charlie’s blue eyes.

Charlie blushed, pulling his hand up to Nick’s face.  This was perfect timing for a good snog.  “That may be a bad idea, but…”  he trailed off, pressing his lips into Nick’s.  The kisses they shared and the rolling around in the bed that they did lasted several minutes;  for most of the time, Charlie had rolled and situated himself on top of Nick, but eventually Nick had rolled Charlie over and situated himself on top of Charlie, one arm tucked under the small of his back, the other on Charlie’s face or neck.  

“Your breath is so…deliciously minty right now.  Like toothpaste, like…the first time we kissed at your house,” he said, blushing, reminiscing a bit.  

“Well…I just brushed my teeth.  Tao dared me to try escargot at dinner on the a la carte menu, so I figured it wouldn’t be fun to taste that…” Charlie said, giggling.  What Charlie did not expect was what Nick did next.  They had stopped kissing momentarily, long enough for Nick to start kissing a trail down his cheek and straight to his neck.  

“So…uhh…ummm…what are you doing?”  Charlie asked, surprised by the turn of events. 

“Kissing your neck, obviously.  Is that okay?” Nick said, as he continued to make pecks at Charlie’s neck.  

In between little stifled moans and slight giggles, Charlie replied, “Uh…umm…obviously. Yes.” 

Nick continued his lip’s assault on Charlie’s neck, saying, “Thought so.”  Charlie just shuddered in sheer pleasure and contentment, giggling occasionally as the feelings of gentle suction continued.  Charlie continued to let out light moans, and Nick’s hands started a journey of their own, the one down from Charlie’s neck to his shoulder, and then his chest and stomach, gently caressing his abdomen, and the other from the small of his back to his hip, just down to the top of his thigh, all of which Charlie was also intensely thinking about, both of them equally close to coming into contact with…

Before he could even think further on that, the door clicked open, and Isaac walked into the room.  

“You know, I am starting to wonder if Tao’s concern about our room turning into a brothel were maybe not too far off,” he said, sarcastically.

Charlie practically shrieked, not having really heard or seen Isaac enter the room, too caught up in the magical feelings he was having at the hands of Nick.  Nick was so shocked at being caught in the middle of things, that all he could do was raise his hands into the air, almost to show Isaac that nothing dirty was going on under the sheets.  Isaac just cackled.  

“Okay lovebirds, just get into your own beds.  Be thankful that Tao didn’t come back brooding to see this.  He would have a conniption,”  Isaac said giggling.  “Again, I swear one day I’ll write a novella about this all.” 

Nick gingerly straightened out his sleeper shorts, and rolled out of bed.  He backed into his bed, not turning to face Isaac,  and rolled under his sheets.  Charlie, almost too embarrassed to function, could see why he didn’t want to face Isaac.  Subconsciously thinking about it, Charlie licked his lips slightly and dazed off at his boyfriend, whose head just emerged sheepishly from under the covers.  Isaac was at least a good sport about it all, and simply headed to the bathroom to clean himself up.  

“We have a knack for getting caught in the most compromising positions,” Charlie said.  All Nick could do was groan and laugh.  They said goodnight, and then started winding down for bed.  

The next morning, Charlie rolls out of bed, groaning.  He’s definitely a bit strained from last night, in more ways than one.  After taking a heavenly morning shower, he brushed his teeth, gazing aimlessly into the mirror, when he noticed something unexpected.  Well, surprising, but given how much force Nick’s lips had applied to his neck last night, he really should not be surprised that a moderate hickey, perhaps the size of a 5p coin glared back at him, reddish-purple.  Well, fuck .  “Okay, Charlie, don’t panic.  There’s probably a way to cover this up.  Or something,” he thought, his brain automatically starting to go deep into anxiety.  

“Nick, can you come here please?” He pleadingly asks, shouting into the main room.  Nick rounds the corner quickly, concern written all over his face. 

“What’s up?”  he asks, confused and apprehensive.  Charlie tilts his neck so that Nick can see the damages done to his neck.  

“Oh MY GOD.  Did…did…I do that to you?” he asked, stuttering.  “I’m so sorry!  I did not think I was doing it hard enough or long enough to do such a thing!  I mean I guess I kissed you hard enough, but I definitely did not think it was long enough!  Ugh oh my god,” he said, panicking.  

“Nick it’s okay!”  Charlie said, trying to calm himself and Nick now.  

Nick asked, “Do you have anything to cover it up, or clothes that would cover it?” 

Charlie shook his head.   Nick shuddered.  “Oh god, everyone’s going to see that…” he said, clenching his jaw a bit.  “Everyone will know you got with someone,” he said softly. 

“No one will know it is you, Nick,” Charlie said, tenderly.  “To be honest…I really liked it,” he said.  

Nick blushed.  “I’m sorry if it is awkward,” he said.  Charlie just touched his arm softly.  

“Obviously our friends will know, but…I just don’t want you to feel pressured to tell anyone about it, not even to defend me,” he said, very clearly.  Charlie knew that Nick would do anything to defend him, possibly even coming out to some random kid on the trip, just to put them in their place.  Charlie could not have Nick doing such a thing.  Nick cupped Charlie’s face, bringing him in for a quick kiss, and then backing out, smiling at him.  

“Wait, I think I have an idea,” Nick said.   

He put his hand over the hickey, and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.  Quietly, Nick started casting.  “ Sānō. Sānō,” he repeated quietly, feeling a hum in his hand.  Charlie’s eyes were a bit wide, completely unexpecting Nick to attempt to fix things with magic, although he should not be surprised given how well intentioned his boyfriend was.  After a few moments of chanting softly, they were interrupted by Tao, who stumbled into the bathroom.  

“What.  What are you doing?” he asked, looking astonished, viewing Nick’s hand cupping Charlie’s neck.    The two of them broke away quickly.  

“Uh…well…Nick gave me a love bite, and now he’s attempting to heal it magically,” Charlie said sheepishly.  

“A LOVE BITE?  When? OHMYGOD when I left last night?  You two horndogs!  Christ, I can’t leave the room for even 15 minutes,” he said exasperated, clapping his hands on his forehead, running his hands through his hair

Both Charlie and Nick turned crimson, with Charlie craning his neck as if to hide his head in his arms.  That’s when he heard Tao and Nick both gasp.  Immediately he poked his head back up. 

“What? What happened?” he asked, alarmed.  They both just pointed at his neck, Nick blinking almost shell-shocked and Tao staring, disturbed.  Charlie turned to look in the mirror, and nearly simultaneously screamed, fainted, and threw up.  The hickey had doubled in size.  

Nick immediately started crying, much to his and Tao’s shock.  “I’m…I’m so sorry!  I gave you the love bite and I made it worse!  I don’t know how, I was just saying the same incantation that you did when I had the black eye!  It should be the same, right?  Why did it get worse?”  

Tao just was staring, his eyes wide.  Beyond Nick’s fae-fire, this was the first magic he had seen.  He literally watched the hickey itself double in size in a matter of moments.  Charlie put his hands on Nick’s arms, embracing him.  

“Nick…it’s okay, we’ll figure something out.  But…just to ask…what were you thinking about as you casted?” he asked, curiously.  

Nick, in between tears, said, “I was thinking how I wanted to help you, but also how embarrassed I was about causing it in the first place and how awful I felt because it would possibly hurt you because people can be so awful.”  He continued sniffling a bit, very upset at what had happened.  

Charlie just gave him a tight hug.  “Nick, babe…that’s exactly why it happened.  Had you cleared your mind and thought just about helping me heal, it would have done that, but…clouding your thoughts and intentions behind the magic with shame, embarrassment, and fear for me…did the opposite,”  he said, soothingly.  He wanted Nick to learn and not take it too hard.  He pulled his boyfriend in for a quick, reassuring kiss.  Nick just sniffled.

Tao just stood there, witnessing it all.  “Umm..do you mind if I shower?  I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” he said.   They both nodded and exited the bathroom, taking a seat on the nearest bed.  Nick was still sniffling a bit, and when Charlie asked him to try again, he just shook his head, vowing not to make it worse.  Charlie himself tried to cast on the hickey, but despite a few minutes of very mindful, intentional incantations, the best he could do was reduce it to a size that was perhaps a bit bigger than the original one, maybe now the size of a 1p coin.  Charlie just held Nick’s hand for a bit longer, stroking it reassuringly.  Charlie’s mind kept going back to his father’s talk…not everything requires a magical solution, necessarily, and this was just another example to that.  

Charlie did wish that a mass-silencing incantation would be viable, however, as the staring and whispering at breakfast was overwhelming.  How people could be that obsessive over something really did boggle his mind.  Nick held his hand under the table, still upset at himself for giving him the hickey and for making it worse.  They were going to the Eiffel Tower today, so things would be captivating enough that the staring and whispering would eventually stop, but it was simply unbearable in the hotel restaurant.  The girls all stared at Charlie’s hickey, clucking.  

“I wish you would have told us about that sooner,” Elle said, squinting at its size and definition.  

Darcy nodded. “You know, we all have make-up and stuff.  We could probably do something about it, well, if we had time.  We’ve got to leave in 7 minutes,” she said. 

Tara just shook her head.  “That’s going to take way more than 7 minutes to properly blend out concealer and sufficiently cover,” she sighed.  

Charlie just palmed his forehead.  “I wish I would have thought of that.  Gahhh,” he groaned out.  

Nick, looking sullen, replied, “I wish I wasn’t such a gigantic idiot rugby lad.”  

Charlie just gave him a side hug really quickly, whispering, “But you’re my giant idiot rugby lad, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”  Nick smiled and blushed.  

The coach ride to the Eiffel Tower felt somewhat different than breakfast.  Once reality set in about what they were doing and where they were going, idle chatter about hickeys really became a lesser topic in comparison.  Filing off the coach, the group stared up at the Eiffel Tower, awash with its majesty.  Unfortunately, if they wanted the premium view, Mr. Ajayi informed them, they would have to hike up the stairs to the observation deck.  He had failed to purchase lift tickets, but did not have the heart to tell them it was more to do with school budget restrictions than his incompetence.  Mr. Farouk sighed at that announcement, and whispered something in Mr. Ajayi’s ear.  The adults clearly had a plan to buy lift tickets and let the youth plod on up the stairs.  Completely ignorant to just how extensive the hike was, everyone whooped and felt really pumped to go, and so they went in a big huddled mass to queue up for the stairway.  While they waited, Isaac peppered them with facts about the Eiffel Tower.  

“First off, seeing as how we’re in France, let’s properly title it,” he said, smugly.  “Nick, correct my pronunciation, but it is La Tour Eiffel.”   Nick just nodded, smiling.  

“Its conception was purely for an event, too.  Paris hosted the 1889 World’s Fair, and that’s basically the whole reason the tower was built.  Some artists actually protested its construction, calling it hideous,” he continued.  

Elle laughed.  “I mean, I kind of get that…it is very different from the architecture of Paris,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.  

Isaac nodded.  “It has survived so much, even the German occupation.  Hitler ordered it to be demolished when allied forces were liberating Paris, but his top command disobeyed the order.  The tower was just too iconic for him to carry it out,” he said.  

Tao, who had been listening the entire time, said, “Well I’m glad we haven’t bought tickets for tour guides or anything, because we basically have one with Isaac here.”  Isaac turned crimson.  Rarely did he ever blush about things.  Charlie just giggled at his enrouging, and before they could really carry on, they reached the beginning of the stairs.  

The climb up the stairwell was hellish.  Absolutely hellish, or the closest approximation to hell Charlie had experienced, beyond when he was outed.  Each of them groaned and grunted on the walk up, completely unprepared for how many steps there were, except for Nick, whose rugby endurance really came in handy.  Unfortunately, he had refused to carry Charlie up the stairs, telling him that while he could handle the steps on his own, attempting to carry them both would definitely end him.  Darcy spent half the time moaning about needing water, only to somehow produce a bottle of water from Tara’s bag.  Tara spent the other half of the stairs trying to figure out how it had gotten there in the first place.  Isaac looked pink in the face the entire time, and Tao finally felt thankful that he had a very valid excuse to hold Elle’s hand as they labored up the steps.  Reaching the top, though…that was worth it.  

They found different views, he and Nick taking selfies together for each one.  Charlie had a feeling that these photos would find themselves in Nick’s bedroom collection and get a spot on his wall at some point.  He noticed Tao and Elle taking a photo together, looking quite adorable.  Elle was most definitely blushing as they posed for it.  Isaac and Sahar took several silly photos, the resident 7th and 8th wheels respectively.  He and Nick were reconfiguring themselves for another photo, when someone from a group of guys yelled over to him.

“Hey Nelson…you give Spring that love bite?”  he jeered.

Nick smiled, showing some bravery in his face with a raised eyebrow, almost inviting the speculation.  “Oh yeah? So what if it was? You jealous?”  he yelled back at the other guy, to great effect.  All of their faces contorted in surprise, totally unexpecting such a response.  Before any further comment could be made, Harry Greene walked up behind the group of guys. 

“Alright lads, leave them alone,” he said, calmly.  Naturally, the others rambled on about it being a “joke,” the excuse that normally Harry turned to.  Harry just shook his head and sighed, turning back to look at Nick, and nodded his head.  Both Nick and Charlie just stared on in surprise.  

“Did Harry…just stick up for us then?” Nick asked, dumbfounded.

“I guess…in a way, he did?  I mean, definitely the bare minimum, but…” Charlie said, shrugging his shoulders.  

“Weird,” they both said, laughing uncomfortably.  

Nick, who had not commented on coming-out related things since the prior evening said, “I was thinking about it….and I don’t think I even mind if people find out that it was me who gave you the hickey.  It would just be a relief at this point to just be…well, out.”  

Charlie nodded.  “I talked to Tara about her and Darcy the other day…you know, before things went a little bit to shit.  Even if things get harder from coming out, at the end of the day, we both have each other, and we can face things together, just like we do with…pamplemousse,” he said, smiling.  “And that’s all that really matters.  We can handle things together.”  

Nick smiled, hugging him.  “That’s the sappiest shit either one of us has said yet,” he said, chuckling.  Charlie just laughed in response, nodding his head in agreement.  

They were called over to take photos with Tao and the others soon after.  It might have been supremely touristy, but it was just such a view that superfluous photo taking was warranted.  Nick got a call from his father that he figured he would take in light of last night, and so the group started to break up a bit more after their spontaneous photo shoot.  Sahar wanted some photos with Tara, so Darcy sat down on a bench nearby.  Not soon after, Charlie noticed her waving him over surreptitiously.  He made his way over to her, confused.  What was this about?  Operation Towel?  Why so secretive?  He took a seat next to her on the bench.  

“Uh…what’s going on, Darcy?” he asked, curiously, looking at her face.  She was clearly deep in thought. 

“Well…that text I sent you, you know…about pamplemousse?” she said, working her way up to something deeper.  Charlie nodded, remembering that one-off conversation he had with her via text, a minor oddity in a night filled with revelations and intense conversations.

She continued, “Well…I think…I think…I have some sort of power, Charlie,” she said whispering.

“Whatever do you mean, Darcy?”  he asked, confused.  As far as he knew, magical abilities had to be passed down through the generations, from parent to offspring.  “Do…do your parents have abilities?”  

She shrugged.  “Beyond being excruciatingly dull and homophobic?  Not that I’m aware of any,” she said nonchalantly.  

“Okay,” Charlie said slowly.  “Well…why do you think this? Can you give me some details?” he asked.  

“Like I said in my text…I can make things appear.  Sometimes things that I need.  Sometimes things I want.  Like…if I just think about them really hard, they just…appear,” she said.  Charlie just sat there, listening, as she recounted the examples she had experienced in the past few months. 

“Dunno Darcy…some of these could be just coincidence, it sounds like.  But…I mean, if you want to give it a try at some point, I wouldn’t mind seeing you test things out.  Just know that casting is not,” he paused for a second, “always safe,” he said, pointing at his hickey.  

She just stared at it again.  “Wait, you got that from casting, not from Nick?”  she asked incredulously.  

Charlie just laughed.  “No, he…tried to magically fix it, and just happened to accidentally make it bigger.  It’s a dumb example, but it just goes to show that it can carry risks,” he said.   

Darcy just laughed, smiling.   Before they could carry on their conversation, Nick motioned for him to come over to one of the view-finders on the observation deck.   Darcy waved him off, giving him the “go be with your man” eyes. 

“What’s up?” he asked.  Nick’s eyes looked worried, afraid of what to say.  

“Uh…my dad called me about pamplemousse stuff.  And…well I randomly paid for the viewfinder, and I…think I found the necromancer.  Apparently they like parks during the day,” he said awkwardly.  Charlie looked through the viewfinder, down at a park below.  If ever there was a person that could be construed to be a necromancer, the man it was fixated on definitely fit the bill. 

“Hey Nick…is that the park that’s kind of close to the Catacombes de Paris?”  Charlie asked.  

“Yeah…that’s exactly the one, Char.  Exactly the one,”  Nick said, frowning.  The need to investigate the Catacombes de Paris became even more essential, and the need for a plan to do that even more so.  Now they just had to run through those ideas with Isaac tonight.  So much was hinging on tonight. 

Chapter Text

Isaac did not really quite know what his friends thought of him sometimes.  They clearly missed his ever-watchful eye, almost the entire time.  Elle had correctly guessed that he himself knew that Nick and Charlie were dating, but that was about it.  It’s so easy to convince everyone that you hear nothing and see nothing when you are constantly consumed by a book.  The funny thing is though, while he might be consumed by literature, it worked to keep his overactive imagination whirling, and heightened his extreme emotional perception.  See, everyone else was so wrapped up in themselves, finding themselves, finding themselves with someone else, but Isaac did not really have that struggle, per se.  He knew what he was, he knew what he liked - friendship and books, not necessarily in any particular order.  Because he felt confident in what he wanted from life and who he was as a person, it was much easier to pick up on the trials and tribulations of others.  Much easier.  He knew who had a crush on who, who was secretly dating, who was at odds with a friend or significant other, simply by observing them long enough.  Some may call that interpreting body language, but he just…knew.  

It is because of these perceptive powers that he knew Tao and Elle mutually pined for one another, even though both were incredibly tight lipped about it.  He had also detected a hint of interest from Sahar in Imogen when they were hanging out on Montmartre, but that one required extra observation for any sort of certainty.  One thing that the Paris trip had made certain, was that one Nathan Ajayi, art teacher, had a magnificent crush on one Youssef Farouk, science teacher.  This last point was the focal point of his most interesting plot to distract the two from chaperoning long enough that Nick and Charlie could successfully escape for an hour or two to investigate the Catacombes de Paris.  Only how he wished he could factor his escape in, too!  Unfortunately, the trip was only really hitting the most touristy points of Paris, but the Catacombes were utterly sublime, just as interesting as the old Roman ruins that had been uncovered outside of Notre Dame de Paris a decade or so ago.  

So they had settled into the girl’s room, prior to dinner, Sahar included.  She would not need to know the full reasons behind the plan to go to the Catacombes, but she could be useful in the ruse.  Isaac figured he would head the meeting, as everyone else at this time was just chatting.  

“Alright, I suspect you all wondered why I suggested this little pre-dinner group meet,” he said, enthusiastically.  That was enough to get everyone piqued in interest, abandoning their side chatter.  

“If you thought it was to do with Operation Escape to the Catacombes, then you would be correct,” he said, beaming.  “I have options, but I have a really good plan that I think our group in particular will really enjoy.”  

Sahar, not missing a beat, said, “Wait…Catacombes?  What and why?”  

Charlie, who did not want to hold up Isaac, simply said, “I’ve got a weird nerd request to see them, and I figured some of the Louvre time could be spent there…just without telling the teachers.”  Sahar simply nodded.  

“Brave and reckless.  I like it, Spring,” she smiled mischievously.  

Tara and Darcy both giggled.  “I knew there was a reason why we asked you to room with us,” Darcy said.  

Tao, who had been rather quiet up until then, nervously asked, “So…Isaac.  What’s your evil plan to carry this out?”  

Isaac grinned.  “Well, based on Darcy’s gay-intuition reading at the Paris Informational Meeting, and my observations over the past 48 hours, I can confidently say that there is a budding romance between our two chaperones.  My confidence rate is 95% at this point, so in the words of Darcy, I think it is time to be meddling gays,” he said, conspiratorily smiling.

Darcy whooped aloud.  Tao looked shocked - he was not the best at picking up on things.  Elle laughed.  Nick and Charlie looked at each other, slightly uncertain, and Tara groaned because she could particularly hear the plotting in Darcy’s head.  Sahar looked interested in this proposal entirely.  

“So what are you planning on doing then,” Tara asked, almost afraid to hear the plan at this point.  

“Well, I’m thinking of some sort of teacher’s pet sort of situation, where I pester them…like hang around them and pepper them with questions,” Isaac said.  Darcy nodded her head.  

“And like…some of those questions will be things that they can learn about each other right, and potentially develop the interest a bit?  So if you do break off from them, they’ll be so invested in getting to know each other, that they’ll lose some focus on chaperoning?”  Darcy asked.  She herself had to be incredibly invested in this.  It was very meddling, but not in such an obvious way. 

“Yes, exactly Darcy.  Exactly that,”  Isaac replied.  

Nick, who had yet to say anything, nodded his head.  “That’s like…lowkey brilliant, Isaac,” he said.  

Tara also nodded.  “Believe it or not, it seems like a mostly-harmless kind of meddling.  I’m convinced that Darcy would have them riding in an ambulance together as an alternative,” she said, chuckling.  

“OH my gosh, dear girlfriend, I am not that chaotic ,” she said, feigning hurt at such an idea.  Everyone just laughed at that, because there were varying degrees of acknowledgement that she indeed could be that chaotic, if she really tried.  

“Okay everyone, I’ll start pulling together a list of questions to keep them busy for an hour, so if anyone wants to contribute to that list, I will be compiling it before dinner, so stick around,” Isaac said, grinning.  

Isaac knew he was quiet.  He knew that he was different from his friends in a lot of ways, some of which he really could not quite explain.  But they were his friends, and he was adamant that he would help deliver the help they needed.  Magic was new to him, but his love for Charlie, and, well, Nick even at this point were not new, and he wanted to make sure that they felt it from him.  He imagined how isolating their reality must be, and how much anxiety the process of being revealed to the friend group had caused.  While everyone seemed to be okay about it, he could sense a deeper undercurrent of fear and uncertainty from a few of them.  He just wanted to prove that regardless of how they were feeling, they could still count on him.  

Dinner that night passed without much fanfare.  All of the dinners had started to blend together a bit at this point, but no new drama or anything really unfolded, which was nice for once.  They were free to just eat and chill out after a long day of sightseeing.  Everyone settled into bed early tonight;  the climb up the Eiffel Tower had really taken it out of them.  They chatted a bit as they started to drift off.  Tao seemed particularly quiet, however, as if he had a lot more on his mind.  Nick noticed his face, kind of staring off, as if was revisiting recent memories and then some.  What was he thinking about?  Was it about Elle?  Was he thinking about magic, about him and Charlie?  He wanted to ask, but also did not want to pry.  Nick looked over at Charlie, and could tell that some of the same things were probably on Tao’s mind, too.  Of all of their friends, Tao’s reaction to everything seemed the most skeptical, the most guarded.  Nick was afraid that he would react poorly, or even distance himself from the friend group over it, and if Nick had those thoughts, that meant Charlie most definitely had similar ones, except that Charlie’s anxiety was probably processing them in far worse ways.  Tao eventually turned on his side, facing away from Charlie and drifted to sleep.  Nick noticed Charlie glance at him every few minutes.  Anxious glances.  Nick instantly got worried about tomorrow.  All it would take was one hiccup to potentially derail their plan, and it looked like Tao could be a part of a major hiccup.  

The next morning, Nick observed Charlie at breakfast - he was incredibly reserved in comparison to the other mornings, and incredibly slow with his eating, busily fidgeting his hands.  While he finished most of his breakfast, it just took a very long time - he must have been very distracted and in his thoughts.  Nick made a mental note of this, wrapping up an extra croissant just in case he got famished. Today they were going to the Louvre, which presented an initial opportunity to make a getaway for the Catacombes de Paris.  Part of their plan had committed them to seeing at least some of the Louvre before making for the Catacombes.  While Nick had been before, he certainly could not deprive Charlie of the opportunity to visit the Louvre; he also felt that if Charlie were too earnest about getting out of the museum, they might appear suspicious and end up getting caught by the teachers.  Little did he know that things would not turn out well that day, at all.  

The first warning signs had appeared at breakfast, but the next ones appeared when they were queuing up to enter the museum.  Tao was ahead of them in line, standing next to Elle.  Charlie had been sneaking looks at him throughout breakfast, but now he was blatantly staring at the back of Tao’s beanie-wearing head, completely lost in his thoughts.  Nick was now getting incredibly worried about his boyfriend.  Weeks before they had discussed anxiety and how it had caused Charlie to overthink and overanalyze situations, which affected him in different ways, depending on what other stressors were present in his life.  Nick decided that he wanted to check in with Charlie, so they drifted back in the line a little bit, putting some space between themselves and the rest of the group.  

“Hey…are you okay?  You just…seem really intense about something,” Nick said, touching his neck nervously.  

“Uh…yeah…I’m fine,” Charlie said, unconvincingly.  

“Is it about Tao?”  Nick asked, not buying Charlie’s initial response.  “Because if it is about Tao…I think I’m having similar feelings.”  

Charlie nodded.  “I just…I mean maybe our other friends are hard to read, but most of them seem to have mostly accepted the whole pamplemousse thing.  Or they’re in complete denial about it.  But Tao…he just seems so reticent about the whole thing.  Does he hate us now?  Is he just worried or freaked out?  I don’t know, and I can’t stop thinking about it and running scenarios in my mind and analyzing every look he gives me or you or us,” Charlie said, starting to pick up steam vocally.  

“Charlie…Charlie…Charlie!”  Nick repeated, several times, trying to derail his boyfriend before he started spiraling into overthinking things even more.  He put his hands on Charlie’s shoulders, giving them an ample grip, trying to pull his focus.  That was a start, as Charlie slowed his voice down, and then stopped talking. 

“Okay, I think it will be okay, in the end.  I mean…I get what you’re thinking.  I’ve been wondering the same things, but we can’t necessarily change Tao’s mind right now.  He needs time to process things.  They all do, in some ways, but he might need longer.  Just…trust me.  He’s your friend.  He will find a way to figure this out and still call you his friend,” Nick said.  

Charlie sighed, his head dropping a bit as they moved back into the queue.  “I wish I could be as sure as you are,” he said.  “I really wish.”  

Nick just palmed at his hand, and stared into his big blue eyes, smiling calmly.  “Char…I…just talk to me, please.  You promised to tell me when things got bad.  This felt bad to me.  Please just talk to me about it.  I promise that I don’t mind listening, and being here for you.  I don’t mind at all,” he said, quickly nuzzling Charlie’s neck with his face.  Screw it, I don’t even care if it's in public .  

“And…I know I’m usually oblivious…but your friend cares about you so much.  I mean, he was ready to kill me because he thought my friendliness with you was fake.  He would do anything for you, Char.  Anything.  Just give him time,” Nick said.  

Eventually they got through the admission queue, entering the museum, catching up with the rest of the group.  They had already decided to see some of the biggest exhibits first, including the Mona Lisa.  Nick was going to propose going to another wing of the museum, away from the crowds for easier travel, but he felt awkward doing so, since they had already held up everyone.  It appeared to Nick that Tao also was not sold on this “mainstream tourist exhibit” plan, either, as he scrunched his face throughout the entire planning phase.  Nick was concerned that Charlie would misinterpret this as Tao being in a mood over the revelations from the previous night.  This concern would prove to be awfully correct, as Nick would learn soon enough.  The next warning signs soon followed. 

Tao barely addressed Charlie for the next hour, save for a few glances and nods.  Although Nick wanted Operation Towel to succeed, he really did wish that Tao would address his friend and spend a little less time with Elle at this particular moment.  No one else seemed to pick up on these little cues, all of them preoccupied with the environs of the Louvre, which really made sense to him.  He kept glancing at Charlie every few minutes to check in.  He did not want to smother Charlie, but he felt like things did not really improve since their talk in the admissions queue, but rather stayed flatlined.  Darcy’s offhanded cracks at the Mona Lisa being “rubbish” because of how unimpressively small it actually was did not even seem to get anything out of Charlie, despite Nick trying to fake a laugh.  Soon after they turned away from the Mona Lisa, Nick noticed Tao walking away from the group, alone.  The remaining group members just glanced at each other, unsure what to do, so Elle just took off after him.  Nick turned to Charlie, and noticed that he had gotten a bit pale and a pained look on his face.  

They trudged on into the bowels of the Louvre.  Nick had truly forgotten how massive the Louvre was; he had gone once as a child, and felt incredibly overwhelmed then.  Even now grown up, he felt overwhelmed, and apparently he was not alone. 

“Gosh this place is massive,” Tara said. “It goes on forever.”

“It is so hot, I’m practically dying here,” Darcy complained.  

Nick turned to Charlie to see if he was okay.  He looked a bit dazed.  

“Hey Char…are you okay?  You seem a bit out of it,” Nick asked, concerned.  

Charlie snapped up a bit, but not enough to remove the complete look of being beleaguered from his face.  

“Intrusive thoughts.  Intrusive thoughts, Nick.  I mean…I haven’t seen Tao practically since we got here.  He hasn’t said a word to me all day.  He has barely even looked at me all day.  He hates me.  He’s scared of me.  He’s scared of us.  He…he…”  

Charlie’s voice trailed off, as his breathing started to speed up.  Nick could see it incoming, another anxiety attack.  It was one thing to be able to help him overcome this at the hotel, but in the Louvre, in public, it would be much harder.  

“Char…listen to me, Char.  Focus on me, focus on my breathing,”  Nick said, as calmly as possible.  

Suddenly, Charlie’s gaze started to falter, and he started tipping forward, luckily straight into Nick’s arms.   

“Someone go get Mr. Farouk!” Nick yelled out to Sahar, Tara, Darcy, and Isaac.  Isaac, who had lagged behind a bit, turned quickly and headed off, map in hand.  He had actually paid attention and knew where the teachers were staying, since he had hoped to put the plan into action today.  

Thankfully, Isaac had not been long gone before Charlie started to come to, looking clearly confused as to why he was in Nick’s arms, huddled on the floor.  

“Uh, what happened?” he squeaked out, quietly. 

“Charlie you just passed out! Are you okay?” Nick asked, frantically, voice laden with concern. 

Sahar chimed in, “You were only out for 30 seconds. Must have overheated or something.”  

“It most certainly has to be that,” Darcy said, “I once passed out in a pool after wearing a beanie during a heatwave.”

“How does it not surprise me that you were wearing a beanie during a heat wave,” Tara mused sarcastically, eyes narrowing at Darcy.  

Nick and Charlie both chuckled at that comment.  

“I’m glad I fell into your arms, Nick,” Charlie whispered, breathlessly.  “I’m just embarrassed that it even happened.”  

Isaac returned shortly after with Mr. Farouk and Mr. Ajayi, both of which looked incredibly concerned.  They expected that something would happen on the trip, but they were not really well prepared for a fainting spell in the Louvre, of all places.   Both of them carted Nick and Charlie off to the cafe adjacent to the Louvre, for some water, a snack, and rest.  They fussed over Charlie, like aunts and uncles would for at least 15 minutes, despite the reassurances from both him and Nick that he was okay now.  Nick really just wanted them to leave, so that he could talk to his boyfriend in earnest about what had happened that day, leading up to the fainting spell.  They needed time to unpack as much as they could.  

“Hey…Char.  I know we’ve talked about this before, but…I just really want to understand.  I keep noticing these moments more and more, both at the end of the year and now.  And it seems to seep into everything…like you slow down eating, you lose focus, and…I’m just terribly worried about it all,” Nick said, his cheeks warm and his voice sober, yet worried.  

“I know, Nick.  I…have always had these intrusive thoughts, telling me things about situations, telling me that the logical, rational thoughts are not right and that I’m stupid for thinking those things, and only the over-analyzing intrusive thoughts are the correct ones.  I just…was capable of silencing them, most of the time, until recently,” he said, putting his hand on his forehead, scrunching his eyes and eyebrows.  “Sorry if that makes zero sense at all.” 

“No, it does…I mean, we all have those thoughts.  Maybe not as strongly as you do, but…even I have them.  I’m sure most people do,” he replied, quickly.  

Charlie must have sensed that quickness, as he replied, “I dunno…maybe…I just feel like I’m burdening you. I’ve been feeling fragile, almost broken at points with this, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to attend to me, to fix me,” he said, sullen.  

“Char…you’re not…broken.  I know I don’t have to fix you.  Everyone needs support.  I’m your boyfriend…I just want to be there for you.  I’m not your doctor and you’re not a patient…” he said.  “Unless you’re into that,” he quickly added, smirking.

“Oh my god, shut up!” Charlie said, laughing.  

Not soon after, they had shared a few silent moments between each other, just glancing at each other.  Nick knew…he knew that he was in love.  He knew Charlie was in love.  But he certainly did not want that declaration to happen today.  It was not the moment.  He just smiled, and took Charlie’s hand, holding it.  

“You ready to go back and find the group?”  he asked.  Charlie just nodded.

On their way back into the Louvre, Nick’s phone started ringing.  He took it out, and saw his dad was calling.  

“My gosh, it’s my dad.  Hold on, I’m going to take this call!” he said to Charlie, who just nodded.  

As he was talking, he noticed that Charlie’s face had completely dazed off again, but this time in a completely different fashion.  He was completely under the spell of Nick’s French speaking…and Nick could tell.  He finished up the call with his father.  

“What?” he asked innocently.  

“God…I really just want to…push you against a wall right now,” Charlie said, huskily and glazed over, face bright pink.  

“Charlie…I know you knew that I speak French…I guess I really did not realize the fullest extent it had on you,” Nick said, sheepishly.  

“It’s fine…totally fine.  I’m not bothered. At all,” Charlie said, turning away from Nick to scuttle off.  

“Charlie…mon amour.  Mon petit chou.  Mon cher,” Nick said, doggedly pursuing Charlie up the stairs.  

“Ohmygod Nick, shut up.”

“No…you’re blushing a lot. I can’t not bug you about it.”  

They flirted and bantered up the stairs, on their way back to the group, who had texted them where they were in the Louvre, at one point getting a perilous stare from a member of the security team, clearly bothered by their loud fliration in the sacred halls of artistry.  Before they returned to the group, Charlie finally remembered something that he wanted to ask before all of the French flirtations had overtaken him.  

“Nick, what did your father want?”  he asked.  

“Oh…he wants to meet us at the Catacombes de Paris,” Nick said, quietly, uncertainty tainting his voice.  

“You don’t think he’ll actually show?” Charlie asked, curiously.  Nick just shrugged his shoulders.  Today certainly was not the day for the plan, but tomorrow…they had to give it a go.  Nick hoped his father would make good on his promise.  He also hoped that Isaac’s plot was ironclad, and that whatever Tao Xu had going on in his head could be resolved between the coach ride back to the hotel and dinner tonight.  Everything had to work out, because Nick just knew that if they could not figure things out, something incredibly bad would happen.  He just felt it, deep in his gut. 

Chapter Text

The events of the Louvre stayed in the back of Charlie’s mind for the rest of the day.  He had not seen Tao again, not even since the anxiety attack. They continued wandering around for another hour, taking in the architecture of the former royal palace.  That was another fun fact that Isaac had taught him.  In the middle of the 14th century, Charles V had converted an old medieval fortress into the primary residence of the royal family by rebuilding it as the Louvre Palace.  In the 16th century, Francis I extensively renovated it in Renaissance fashion, only to have the Sun King, Louis XIV, build Versailles as the primary residence of the king slightly over a century later.  Isaac had also mentioned that one of the goals of the king was to put some distance between himself and his subjects by moving the Royal Family away from the center of Paris.  Maybe, Charlie thought, he needed to do the same for him and Tao.  Put some distance between them.  That was the practical solution to his current situation, and for once, he would listen to the background voice of his father, asking him to consider non-magical solutions first.  

That concept was tested on the return to the coach, which was grotesquely failed due to the interference of Isaac and Nick.  Charlie had failed to tell anyone his plan to put some distance between the two of them, so naturally his caring boyfriend conspired to make sure that he and his best friend were forced to connect and talk in some capacity.  He had not even noticed it on the coach, when he was heading for a pair of empty seats.  Isaac had whispered something in Nick’s ear, and then pulled him into a set of seats, leaving the two open seats and a seat right next to Tao.  Charlie’s choice was between facing his friend or making things even more intensely awkward and sitting by himself.  He simply couldn’t bear making it worse, so he chose the former, and plopped down next to Tao, who looked a combination of surprised and anxious.  Apparently he was either surprised to see Charlie, or incredibly surprised that he chose to sit by him and not Nick.  He turned suddenly toward Charlie.

“I heard that you passed out!  Are you…okay?”  Tao asked, his voice sounding quite alarmed.  

“Uh yeah…I think so.  It seems to have been a combination of things…heat and anxiety, most…” Charlie said, trailing off. 

“But you feel better now?” Tao asked earnestly.  

“Mostly, I suppose,” Charlie replied.  

Tao thought to himself for a second, like he was carefully considering his words, carefully thinking about how Charlie would interpret them.

“I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable over the whole pamplemousse thing.   I’ve been thinking…well, I’ve been thinking about what Tara said, before the girls all left the room.  Which then got me thinking about other things over the past day,” he said, scratching his head, repositioning his beanie.  “And finally I thought about how I never even considered how you’ve had to deal with it, you and Nick.  Like neither of you really had a choice in the matter, and you’re both out here trying to do your best, and I’m only making you feel worse over something that you had no control over.  It would be like me not liking you just because you’re gay.”

Charlie smiled.  He could see the gears turning in Tao’s head.  He knew that Tao wasn’t done saying what he wanted to say, but he wanted to provide him with some sort of positive reaction, to keep his friend going.  

“I promise that I will be a better friend and less of an idiot.  Especially in respect to pamplemousse issues,” Tao finished speaking with a decided emphasis on the word pamplemousse.  

“Okay,” Charlie said.  He just grinned widely.  “Just tell us…if the pamplemousse is too much though.  I’d understand if you ever felt that way.”  Tao simply nodded. 

“To be honest, how quickly you and Nick got together after your extreme crushing on him makes a lot more sense now,” Tao said, smirking a bit.  

Nick, who had been sitting with Isaac quietly, turned around suddenly.  “You talking about me?” he asked, innocently.  

Tao laughed.  “Yeah, just the usual though.  Recounting how extreme of a crush Charlie had on you, blah blah blah,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.  

Charlie, not feeling this round of gentle ribbing, decided to chide his friend right back.  “Well, at least I had the nerve to actually tell Nick I liked him, unlike someone I know,”  he said, sticking his tongue out at Tao, sassily.  

“Well, actually…” Tao said, blushing and looking out the window ever so slightly.  

“WOT!!!” Charlie half-screamed.  “Did something happen??”  This outburst alerted both Nick and Isaac to a potentially juicy development in the friend group, as they both turned their attention to Tao.  

“Well…I wasn’t avoiding you super intentionally today in the way you were probably thinking.  It was mostly because I wanted to spend more alone time with Elle.  And…well…we kissed in the Louvre,” he finished, pulling his hands up to his face.  Both hands were squeezed together tightly into fists, Tao’s excitement unable to be contained.  

Isaac, sounding triumphant, shouted, “Operation Towel was a success!”   Nick and Charlie just snorted as Tao looked at them inquisitively.  

“Oh my gosh you little schemers.  You’ve been pushing this ever since we got here, haven’t you?” he asked, indignantly.  

Charlie smiled, mischievously.  “Indeed we have.  I’m just glad to witness the fruits of our labours,” he said.  “Does this mean you two are dating?”  

Nick chimed in, “I need details! Details, Tao!”  

Tao blushed crimson, pulling his beanie down to cover his eyes. “I dunno!  Ack, leave me alone you three!”  They all just laughed heartily at their friend’s embarrassment.  It certainly made the ride back to the hotel incredibly entertaining, replete with banter and witty remarks, mostly at Tao’s expense.  Dinner passed as such, too, but with far less ribbing, out of respect for Elle.  The two of them stared at one another all throughout dinner, blushing extensively.  Everyone else at the table made knowing glances at one another, keeping the small talk going until it was time to retire for bed.  

The next day was much more open ended for the students, as Mr. Ajayi and Mr. Farouk had allowed them to roam a general area including The Latin Quarter and Île de la Cité, as long as they reported back by 3 PM.  Nick, Darcy, Charlie, Tara, and Isaac all met up outside of the Notre Dame de Paris.  The Cathedral was currently closed to the public for ongoing renovations.  Tao, Elle, and Sahar had conveniently decided to peruse a famous bookstore in the Latin Quarter for any exotic finds.  Isaac, the mastermind of the plan, took over the conversation.  

“So, given the change in location and slightly different details of the day, I altered from the “me pestering them in the Louvre” plan to the “let’s take tabs on them” plan,” he said, confidently.  

Tara immediately spoke up.  “So, what does that entail then, Isaac?  We’re just…going to stalk the teachers around Paris?”  she asked cautiously.  

“Well, no,” he responded.  “But we will circulate in certain areas and relay text messages to Nick and Charlie about their whereabouts.  That way they can leave the perimeter undetected and arrive again, also undetected.  We get sight-seeing in still and they get to fulfill their mission undetected, it’s a win-win!”  he said effusively.  

Darcy chuckling, said, “Okay, Isaac…that’s actually quite sensible.  I think Tara and I should go into the Latin Quarter section, but closer to the Sorbonne.  I know that’s one of Tara’s reach schools for uni.”  Tara just nodded.  

“Yeah, I would love to see the Sorbonne,” she said, dreamily. 

“That means I’ll take closer to the bridge between Île de la Cité and the Latin Quarter.  Kinda close to the bookstore,” Isaac said.  

Nick chimed in, “Yeah, you might need to keep the others distracted from everything, too.  I mean, I know Tao and Elle know that something is up, but Sahar still doesn’t know…that would be a tough explanation.”  Isaac nodded.  

“Okay, team.  Let’s put the plan in motion.  3-2-1  scheme!”  Isaac said, almost cheering.  Charlie giggled.  He really loved how the plotting and scheming really got Isaac out of his shell.  

He and Nick made their way across the Pont au Double, a gorgeous cast-iron bridge adjacent to the cathedral, crossing the Seine.  Nick was checking his phone again, pulling up maps, trying to make sure that they were heading in the correct direction.  Charlie looked over at him a bit, unsure if he was going about looking at things properly, especially given the mix up in Montmartre.  

“Uh, Charlie…this pedestrian map is saying that it will take almost 40 minutes to walk down to the Catacombes de Paris.  I don’t know about you, but that sounds like…too much time to make it there, investigate, and get back,”  he said, hesitantly.  They had just reached the other side of the Seine. 

“Yeah…that’s…well that’s not good.  But we’ve got to get there!” Charlie said, exasperated.  

Nick was glancing around frantically.  They were definitely too young to be hailing cabs or rideshares in Paris.  Suddenly, Nick pointed over to some electric scooters.  “Look at that, Char.  Feeling up for a little ride?”  he asked, optimistically.  

“Oh my god…am I going to die?”  Charlie said under his breath, as Nick jogged over to the e-scooters.  “Nick, I definitely do not feel confident riding one of those!”  

“Don’t worry!  We can share!  I’ll steer and actually drive it, and you can just hold onto my back. I think the both of us will fit on one.  It looks like we just have to take Rue St. Jacques down to Boulevard Arago, and they’ll be right there.  Will cut time down in half,” he said, incredibly chipper.  

Nick had scanned the scooter with an app, pulling it out of the charging station gingerly, hopping on.  He extended his hand to Charlie, who groaned a bit.  Charlie hopped on behind him, positioning himself in the most secure position possible.  He clamped onto Nick like a vice grip, despite the fact that they had not even started moving yet.  Nick just chuckled softly.  

“Hold on, Char.  Hold on,” he said gleefully, starting up the scooter, and rocketing off toward Rue St. Jacques. 

Charlie initially held his breath until Nick took a sudden turn, at which point he let out a small scream.  He knew it was coming, but the momentum and speed at which they rounded the corner completely startled him.  He really was not kidding - this would be substantially faster than walking, albeit more dangerous.  Before they knew it, they had zipped toward the Sorbonne, past Tara and Darcy even, who had apparently booked it over there.  They just waved and screamed after them.  Eventually, Charlie noticed some greenery coming up on their left, a small park near a building with a statue, unfortunately, some large birds.  

“Oh my god, Nick!  Check your 10 o’clock.  There’s a swan incoming!” Charlie screamed in Nick’s ear.  

Nick swerved the scooter a few feet off their current path, into traffic on the street for a moment to avoid the large bird, before pivoting back onto their initial trajectory.  Charlie could feel him tensing up through the whole ordeal, and even he had to breathe out a huge sigh of relief.  

“Of course there would be a damn swan walking around in the middle of Paris,” Nick grunted under his breath, eyes focused on the path ahead.  

“You’re doing great, sweetie,” Charlie said, almost half-mocking.  “If you were half as good at Mario Kart as you are at real-life scooter driving, you would probably actually beat me every so often.”  

“You know, you little menace…you’re lucky I like you a lot.  Like a lot, a lot.  Because that dig would normally earn a hard break, but since I, again, like you a lot, I’ll make sure I ease into it,” he retorted to his boyfriend.  

Before Charlie knew it, they were coming to a stop near the Boulevard Arago, a massive looking intersection in front of them, the entrance to the Catacombes de Paris in the middle of it all.  Nick parked the scooter at a nearby station after they had dismounted.  He was never more thankful to be on solid ground, but unfortunately that meant being a pedestrian in Paris at an incredibly complex-looking intersection, a web of boulevards and streets.  Nick, unshaken by the harrowing ride, took Charlie by the hand and led him into the streets dodging cars when necessary, and waiting for pedestrian signs when walking could potentially be deadly.  Eventually they reached the entrance to the Catacombes de Paris, steep steps like a metro entrance reaching down into the earth below.  

Nick turned to him.  “You ready?” he asked, motioning down the stairwell, their tickets in his hand.  Charlie simply nodded, and started down the stairs, gripping the handrails.  

Unsurprisingly, as they descended, the temperature started to cool off significantly.  Charlie, always cool, started chattering a bit, so Nick gave him his jumper to wear.  Eventually they reached the bottom of the stairwell, entering a sort of lobby-like area.  Already, bones could be seen.  The underground tunnels were incredibly narrow, and dimly lit.  Charlie tensed up a bit.  He knew that they would be underground, but the confinement of it all made his skin crawl nervously.  Before he could say anything about it, he saw Nick hugging a man who looked like a thinner, slightly more diminutive and bohemian version of himself.  Mr. Nelson.  For sake of ease, Nick had chosen to address his father in English, who seemed to go along with things for Charlie’s sake.  

“Uh, dad…this is my really good, close friend Charlie.  He’s the Caster I mentioned,” Nick said, blushing, looking at Charlie with a tinge of sorrow in his eyes.  Charlie met that look with his own that communicated a “don’t be sorry about that, Nick.”  

“Hello Mr. Nelson, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Charlie said calmly.  

“Oh Charlie, please just call me Stéphane,” he said, with a moderate French accent.  

“Okay, Stéphane, sir.  Nick tells me you know some things about what’s going on?” he asked curiously.  

Stéphane Nelson proceeded to tell the both of them, in vivid detail, the dream he had recurring weeks back, and how it stopped abruptly.  The details of the dream eerily matched up to the vision that Charlie had seen and heard upon touching the Dream Broome.  

Charlie, who had listened attentively, said, “I think…I stole your dream? Inadvertently.  I made a device to “absorb” bad dreams, but apparently it only works for certain types of dreams.”  

“Well that would explain a lot, Charlie,” he replied.  “Magic is definitely something to be wary of.  You never know what you could do inadvertently.”   Charlie just nodded.  Oh, had he learned that.  

“Well, dad…what about. The rest of it?” Nick asked, nervously.  They had started to file into one of the passage ways.  Charlie gripped Nick’s hand without thinking, getting a bit anxious by the constricted space.  He went to let go, but Nick intertwined his fingers, securing his grip.  He might be frightened, too.  They were both scaredy-dorks.  Who wouldn’t be?  Rows of crania stared at the three of them, their mandibles missing.  Long-bones lined the walls, alternating with the bones of the arms, the humerus, radius, and ulna, and bones of the legs, the fibula, femur, and tibia.  It was a sublimely morbid sight. 

“Well…it most definitely involves Necromancy.  Raising the dead.  What I can’t figure out is what the plan is.  From my records, most necromancers cannot raise more than a few at a time.  What would they be hoping to accomplish down here?”  he mused, as they continued along the pathway.  

“What if…what if they found a way to amplify their power, to raise…an army? Or a significant number of the dead? I mean…it is magic.  Anything is possible, right?”  Charlie asked, his voice squeaking a bit.   Nick squeezed his hand tightly as he finished asking that question.  

“I suppose so, young Caster.  I suppose so.  The only other useful tidbit of information I found out is that fire and fae-fire can impact the risen dead.  Nothing about the necromancer themselves, unfortunately,” he said, gloomily.  

“Dad, would you…be able to help us, if it comes to a confrontation with this necromancer?  Based on what we’ve seen…it appears as if such a thing will happen,” Nick said.  His father nodded his head.  

“I know…that I have not been incredibly present, nor have I been incredibly communicative, but…I cannot let you do this alone.  Please make sure you call me immediately if something happens,” he said, his voice worried.  

They had reached a fork in the tunnel, with one pathway leading to a seemingly dead-end that had a crucifix and altar-like structure situated toward the back.  While it seemed that Nick and his father were inclined to avoid the dead-end, Charlie instinctively turned toward it, as if he was pulled by a magnet.  Something about the altar area felt hypnotic, ethereal.  The lunar pendant on his neck suddenly grew frigidly cold, to the point that he had to take it out from under his shirt and Nick’s jumper.  It was glowing faintly, picking up on something unseen from a distance.  Charlie approached the altar and crucifix, drawn by the light emanating from the pendant.  Something felt hidden from him, but not the pendant.  He held out his hand, but not knowing the Latin words needed, he just thought about it, intensely for a bit.  Reveal yourself to me, show me what is hiding .  Suddenly, a clang of metal sounded from near the altar, as if something had fallen off of it, or had been hanging from the crucifix momentarily, disturbed by Charlie’s attempt to make some sort of magic happen.  Taking out his phone, he scanned the area with the flashlight tool on. On the ground, he found a key, a moderately sized, old-fashioned key.  Just as he was picking it up, he heard Nick call from afar.

“Charlie.  Char!!  Where’d you go??  Isaac texted me.  Apparently someone told Mr. Ajayi that they thought they saw us take off on scooters.  We’ve got to get back.  My dad’s going to get a rideshare for us to get there!”  

Grabbing the key and tucking it inside his pocket, he ran back to the hallway that Nick and his father had taken.  They were far enough away, but Charlie eventually caught up to them.  They hurried to start their ascent back to the surface;  Stéphane had already called a rideshare that was minutes away from picking them up at the intersection.  

“I’ll make sure I talk to your teacher.  Your school does have my contact information…they’ll know I’m not some random weird man,” he said, smiling slightly.  

Nick laughed lightly, and Charlie giggled a bit.  He was starting to see where Nick could get some of his awkwardness.  Must be some weird fae genetic feature.  He also had a sense that Mr. Nelson knew that he and Nick were not just platonic magical friends.  Nick might not be willing to give his father much credit, but he had noticed Mr. Nelson analyzing their body language, their physical touches throughout the Catacombes and now in the backseat of the rideshare car that they had just crammed into.   Before they knew it, they sped off toward the Île de la Cité.  Thankfully, there was still an hour before they were set to meet the teachers and the coach.  As they approached their destination, they saw their friends huddled up.  Nick asked the driver to drop them off there.  

“Merci, Papa.  Nos amis sont là,” he said to his father, who nodded silently.

“Au revoir, Nicholas.  Charlie…pleasure meeting you.  I hope I get to see you in the future,” he said, his eyes twinkling.  Charlie nodded and waved goodbye to him, uttering a quick thank you.   

They clamored out of the car, running over to their friends.  

Isaac looked up expectantly.  “Find out anything good?”  he asked.  

Charlie responded for the both of them, “Perhaps. Let’s talk about it later.” 

Darcy, who had a small bag of baguettes, handed them one to share.  “I assumed you might be a bit peckish after such a glorious exploration,” she said.  Nick laughed.  

“Yeah…we met my dad there.  It was…interesting,” he said, pulling apart the baguette, handing some to Charlie.  “Uh…in case anyone asks.  We were not on an e-scooter, even though we most definitely were, and uh…we just got lost.  That’s the excuse.”   Tara and Darcy laughed.  Isaac just nodded.  

“Let’s go find Elle, Tao, and Sahar.  We can sell them on the whole “lost” thing,” Charlie said, chuckling slightly.  “We’ll have to tell Tao otherwise tonight, but…for now.” 

They wandered into a bookstore that apparently the three had been enraptured by since arriving in the Latin Quarter.  Charlie could see why.  The book selection was divine.  Isaac, previously excited by his involvement in the plot, was not slightly disheveled at the knowledge that he missed a perfectly good afternoon roaming through stacks of books.  Charlie went to the Classics/Antiquities section, and perused the books.  Occasionally he would notice Nick innocently taking pictures of him in his nerdy element.  Charlie must look particularly adorable, absorbed in a Henry Maddox book.  Or perhaps it was just Mr. Maddox’s picture on the back cover that kept him so enthralled.  

Elle had wandered over to them.  “Get into any fun today, you two?” she asked. 

Charlie shrugged.  “We wandered a lot.  Nick almost got attacked by a swan.  You know, usual stuff,” he said, smiling.  

Just then, they saw Mr. Ajayi through the window, beckoning them to head back to catch the coach.  Their whole group placed their books back and ran for it.  The ride back to the hotel was quiet, uneventful, besides Charlie’s thoughts.  What was the significance of this key?  Where was its lock?  Later, they considered it as a group, before they went out for more late afternoon activities.  Poor Sahar had been left out again, but to her, it apparently was not an issue, as she and Imogen had grown incredibly close over the past two days.  Charlie internally chuckled at that thought, as perhaps Ms. Heaney was getting her Parisian romance after all, but not from a cute French boy.  Or perhaps it was just rude to speculate.  

“So…you lot actually hatched your plan, in a sense, without us?  Ruuuuude,” Tao said, scrunching his face. 

“Honestly, I am thankful for that.  I needed a day off from chaos,” Elle said, smiling.  “What did you all find?”  

Nick shrugged.  “Nothing physical, per se,” he said.  “My dad actually showed up, shocker.  Really just reconfirmed the necromancy thing.”

The girls had all missed the initial conversation about necromancy that the boys had all had, as evident by the confusion on all of their faces.  

“Death magic,” Isaac said, nearly whispering.  

Tara and Darcy both shuddered, with Darcy groaning a bit.  “More dead bodies?” she asked.  

Charlie shook his head.  “Well, not yet.  But that’s how they are reanimated, apparently,” he said, getting up to grab the Book from his luggage again.  “Let’s see what we’ve got here.”  

While he was flipping through the Book, searching for Necromancy, he brought out the key from his pocket.   “I forgot to mention this…well to everyone.  But, I did find this key down there,” Charlie said nonchalantly.  

“What?!”  Nick said, stunned.  “Why are you just bringing this up now?” he asked.  

“It felt weird to do so in front of your dad.  Don’t know why,” Charlie replied.  Tao picked up the key, examining it.  Nick frowned a bit, uncertain what Charlie could mean by that. 

“It looks…old?  But not ancient?  Still functional, not horribly rusted, really,” he observed.  Isaac nodded, looking at the key, too.  

“What do you think it opens?” Isaac asked.  

“I have a feeling..it involves the Sacre Cœur,” Charlie replied.  

“What, how?”  Tara asked.  

“Because the day we were touring it…the necromancer was there, too.  They entered some underground area beneath the church,” he replied, without hesitation.  

Tara stood there, blinking at Charlie.  “Wow…this got uncomfortably real,” she said.  

“Listen, if you aren’t feeling it…don’t stay.  I don’t want you feeling overwhelmed on this trip.  You’re supposed to be having fun!  Don’t let this magical mess ruin your fun,” he said, as kindly as he could.  

Tara just shook her head.  “That creep inadvertently messed with my girlfriend.  I need to know how this turns out,” she said adamantly, her face screwed up with a sense of bravery.  Just as she had made that declaration, and Darcy had faux-swooned for her, Charlie landed on the page that they needed.  

“Ah,” was all he could say, his eyes peering over the grim page before him.  The accent coloration on the page looked ghastly, a combination of black, grays, purples, and blues, arranged in such a way that looked almost foul.  Charlie anxiously scanned the page before him.  

“Honestly, most of the same information your dad supplied,” he said, mildly frustrated.  

Nick peaked over his shoulder, putting a hand down to give him a bit of a massage.  Down at the bottom of the page, Nick must have noticed something that Charlie had not, which in this situation was due to a combination of both the massage he was receiving and the intense reading he was doing above.  

“What’s that, Char?” he asked, pointing toward the bottom of the page. 

Charlie glanced down at the bottom of the page where Nick had placed his finger.  Painted toward the margins was a piece of fine jewelry, from which it appeared vapors poured.  The pendant featured two gleaming emeralds that surrounded a gem that appeared to be as black as night; the entire piece looked reptilian, like a snake’s eye.  It looked quite curious, and the more Charlie looked at the center gem, the more he felt like he had seen it before, although his mind could not quite remember where.  Charlie glanced back at the text, scanning for details about the piece.  Toward the bottom of the page, he finally found something new and helpful. 

The Ophidian Amulet is a legendary amulet rumored to exist since the Lower Kingdom of Egypt.  Rumored to allow priests to control the unruliest of the dead, helping them pass onto the Land of the Dead, the locations of its gems are a constant obsession of serious Necromancers.  Many believe that the Amulet amplifies the power of death magic, such that it would allow for the control of more undead subjects.  Never have all three gemstones been united in recent millennia, though several have been recorded at various points in history, either taken as plunder of war, or stolen away in heist.  The last recorded acknowledgment of the center black opal came from the ledger of a French aristocratic family; unfortunately, the path went cold there, as the family was carted off by revolutionaries and killed during The Terror, their estates ransacked .    

Charlie looked up at Nick, some fear in his eyes.  What were the odds that pieces of The Ophidian Amulet were somewhere in Paris, just waiting to be found and used by a nefarious, driven necromancer?  Given how things had gone thus far, he was beginning to think those odds were nauseatingly high.  

Chapter Text

Nathan Ajayi’s concept of a trip to Paris really did not contain children, especially not teenagers.  Ideally, it involved a week with a very handsome gentleman, deeply interested and in love with him.  Alas, such a thing was not on the table for this week in Paris.  Well, part of it at least.  Youssef Farouk was most likely not in love with him, quite possibly was interested in him, but most definitely was a very handsome gentleman.  That alone was enough to get Nathan through such a chaotic week filled with unruly, hormonal teenagers.  One of them had even had the gall to apparently jettison himself out of bounds on an e-scooter, with one of his favorite students, nonetheless.  No one had concrete evidence to support such an egregious violation of chaperone rules, but the rumor was enough.  Back to Youssef Farouk first though.

When the Head Teacher had told him that he would be paired with a male teacher from Higgs, who taught Science (primarily Physics at that, too), he was incredibly apprehensive.  A lot of Nathan’s experiences with science people were not…great.  He was so artistically inclined that he and science tended to repel like oil and water.  They had primarily communicated via email, so Nathan had no inkling what Youssef was truly like.  For all he knew, Youssef would be some footie lad turned adult, and that would mean something potentially incredibly homophobic in sheer contrast to Nathan’s fairly blatant homosexuality.  Nathan was getting ahead of himself there, because when he walked into Higgs to meet with Youssef for the early planning phase, he nearly lost all of his breath entirely.  

Youssef had rich, chocolate brown hair, with some ruddy undertones.  His eyes also had rich earthy brown tones, bespeckled with olive green and a ring of ferric brilliance around the pupil.  His skin was rich in olive tone, and if Nathan could say so himself, it was absolutely gorgeous.  His voice was lower in register, almost a bit husky, but still incredibly soft, with the potential to be powerful.  Despite his beautiful features and incredibly sexy voice, Youssef was grumpy.  Nathan could only assume it was the students.  It was grumpy though, in the cutest way possible, and that is what kept hooking in Nathan, over and over.  And thus, the planning process became a perilous one for him.  

During planning meetings, Nathan found himself gazing upon Youssef more and more, noticing his features.  Again, those complex, spellbinding eyes.  They probably were the most dangerous part of the whole situation, as he could get lost in them endlessly. Upon reflection, that was the day that they discussed going to the Eiffel Tower.  He had completely forgotten to purchase lift tickets for the occasion, primarily because he was so hypnotized by Youssef.  He had registered Youssef telling to purchase the tickets, he had scribbled on a notepad to do so, but upon revisiting the notepad he noticed that it said “gorgeous eyes.”  Every time he looked at it, he just knew it was about Youssef, and could think of nothing else besides his eyes.  When Nathan had been reminded about the lift tickets, his inquiries into purchasing them were rebuffed by both school’s budgetary offices.  Well, at least it was not just Youssef’s fine eyes that held him up. 

The next time he got distracted during a planning meeting was when they were talking about the Louvre visit.  They were debating how much time to reserve for such a visit, as the museum was absolutely massive.  Most experts agreed that daily visits for two weeks were absolutely necessary to see virtually every part of the massive museum.  Obviously they had no such amount of time for that on their trip, so they elected for 4 hours maximum after a little discussion.  The discussion was mostly one-sided, however, as this time Nathan got distracted by Youssef’s hair.  He envisioned him with medium length hair in his youth, hanging a few inches above his shoulders.  Very emo-punk.  Currently, it was cropped short with a neat side part, mildly faded at the bottom.  Nothing extreme.  Nothing too laddish.  He was beginning to wonder if Youssef had noticed his obvious staring.  

“Uh, Nathan.  You seem quite excessively diverted.  Have you heard anything that I said recently?” Youssef asked, softly.

Nathan’s attention quickly jerked away from the delicate part and the slight russet undertones that the natural light had brought out in Youssef’s hair.  “Oh.  Uh.  Yeah, it must have just been a long day.  I’m also not super great with fine details, unless they’re artistic in nature, so sometimes my brain just…gets distracted,” he said, his cheeks getting warm.

He could tell that Youssef blushed slightly.  Well, that was something, for sure.

Somehow they had made it through the planning phase without a major problem or any other awkward encounters.  Well, until the parent meeting.  Both of them shared responsibilities for describing the trip to parents, the rules and regulations that they as chaperones and the schools had outlined.  Nathan had helped put together the presentation, including making it appear much more neat and fanciful.  Youssef had a great command of actual presentation and information, but lacked the artistic finesse to polish it.  Thinking about this made Nathan’s mind drift to how excellently they complimented each other in every way.  Of course that train of thought completely distracted him, and Youssef had to say his name a second time, a bit gruffly, to get his attention.  As he finally brought himself back into focus to continue the presentation, he noticed a student table toward the back - Charlie Spring, one of his favorite students, sat there, eyes gazing longingly into the eyes of a rugby lad sitting incredibly close to him.  Nathan took a mental note of that.  He also noticed Charlie’s friend sitting next to him, dialed into Youssef.  Naturally he did not know her, but all he could think was, “Oh sweet summer child…I’m pretty sure Mr. Farouk is gay.  Well, I certainly hope he’s gay.”  

After the parent meeting, he did not see Youssef until the day of the trip, but that did not mean he did not pine over him.  The day before, Nathan went out for brunch with his friends Angie, Chloe, and Ginger.  The Gals as he called them, informally.  There was a really cute place where you could pay a flat 35 quid for all you can eat small breakfast plates plus add 1p per mimosa.  Essentially, bottomless brunch.  Essentially, aggressive day drinking.  After his first waffle and everyone’s third mimosa, Angie started inquiring about the trip.

“So, I am assuming based on how quickly you are guzzling your mimosa, you most certainly are not mentally prepared for a week-long trip filled with teenagers, babes,” she said, toying with her long, curly dark brown hair.  

Nathan, who to this point had not said a single thing about Youssef Farouk, blushed a bit, smiling a little idiotically just thinking about him, and all of them noticed.  They pounced.  

“Ah this is about a man, innit?” Ginger said.  She put her arms on the table, palms upturned, and rested her head in them, staring at him intently.  

Equally interested, Chloe gave him her signature “spill the tea” look.  She did not even have to say a word.  

“I’m pretty sure I have the biggest crush on my co-chaperone and I am incredibly frightful of what the next seven days in Paris are going to look like sharing a room with him and panicky and ohmygod he’s gorgeous and ohmygod I think he might be at minimum bisexual or possibly even gay, and ohmygod I am not mentally prepared for this torture,” he rambled out, reaching to take the last swig of his mimosa, motioning to the waiter for a fourth.  

The gals all scream-squealed.  Immediate requests for details, pictures, etc. flowed forward earnestly.  Nathan got out his phone, finding Youssef’s Instagram page.  Naturally he had followed Youssef, and Youssef had followed him back.  He also showed them his faculty photo, for a good professional edge.  They all scrolled through photos, examining them.  

“Oh my gosh, he’s hot.  Like…did you see this beach photo from last year?  So toned!  And…mmmf he’s wearing short trunks,” Angie said.   Nathan smiled weakly.  He had routinely looked at that photo before bed the past few weeks, and had almost accidentally liked it over a dozen times. 

“But like actually,” Ginger chimed in, “his eyes are ridiculously beautiful.  Like you know how some people hate their brown eyes?  Can’t be him.  They’re like…so uniquely toned, not uniform brown.  Like he could be an eye model or something,” she said, gazing at a random headshot he had from some weekend event he had gone to.  “Oh god, his hair, too.  He’s not ginger, but like somehow has some red in with the brown?  Like who are his parents even, they must be gorgeous.” 

“I’m glad you all see why I am physically smitten by the man,” Nathan said, looking dreamily at the fourth mimosa that just arrived. “He’s also…just great.  Very sweet, yet also very gruff.  So organized.  Incredibly thoughtful and pretty smart.  Precisely why this will be torture.”  

They all continue to mull over this conundrum, while ordering the next two plates of food.  Seeing as how round 4 of drinks has commenced, it is only sensible to eat with it, too.  They might be day drinking, but they’ve all learned that slowly creeping toward 30 is also slowly diminishing their body’s ability to sufficiently generate alcohol dehydrogenase, significantly hampering their alcohol processing abilities.  The gals and the gays cannot be sloppy today, and 4 mimosas without enough food equals sloppy.  After their food, Ginger and Angie both conclude that they have to tap out - if they eat more, they will explode, if they drink more, they will faceplant in the street.  They settle their bill and walk off to catch the train together.  It appears that he and Chloe are headed that way, too.  There’s only so much mimosa one can safely drink, after all. 

“You know…Nathan.  I mean, obviously don’t force it, but don’t be shy about showing some interest in him, either.  It is Paris after all.  There’s definitely a degree of romanticism and magic there.  Like…you may barely see him ever again outside of planning.  I mean, you work at different institutions and are both fairly busy, so a Paris romance and shagfest…doesn’t matter if it is awkward, right?” Chloe said optimistically. 

“OH god, Chloe.  I cannot have a shagfest in Paris with him.  We’re chaperones!  All I’ll need for my life to be derailed is for a student to need something while we’re…” he could barely finish the statement, and Chloe started howling with laughter, definitely rather tipsy.  

“Oh GOD that would be awkward.  Well…I suppose you’re right, but the romance could still happen.  Just think about it.  Who knows, right?  Maybe you’ll end up an item!”  she giggled.  Nathan could only blush. 

The excellent thing about day drinking is that one can hydrate, nap, and rally.  Sure, there are hangover symptoms, but one can be fresh and ready for the evening if planned properly.  Nathan, however, has no evening plans.  He finalized his packing, set his alarms for tomorrow’s coach ride, and started reflecting on what the Gals had said at brunch.  He has been mostly alone for most of his adult life.  He more than fancied Youssef Farouk.  He sits there, eyes closed, breathing in and out, thinking to himself, seriously.  Besides chaperoning teenagers in Paris, he has decided to shoot his shot with Youssef.  Gently at first, of course, but given any concrete evidence of Youssef being a single gay, bisexual, or pansexual man that could be even remotely interested in him, he is going to make it beyond blatantly obvious that he, Nathan Ajayi, is very much interested in Youssef.  That’s the Paris plan, and he has committed to it. 

Now, dear reader, we are back to the beginning of this interlude.  Nathan and Youssef, in Paris.

Thus far, Nathan has seen Youssef yell several times, not in a mean sense, but just in a very professional sense.  For some reason, this loud, commanding presence flustered Nathan beyond belief.  Why did he find Youssef being so stern to be so incredibly sexy?  Oh god.  Their first full day included a trip to Montmartre.  Despite having chaperone duties, Youssef had actually paid for tickets to the Musée de Montmartre.  They spent a significant time there, Nathan gleefully examining the museum itself, his face lighting up in the gardens.  They had to dodge two of the students while there, but that was not a big deal.  The biggest deal happened in the gardens.  Nathan had been walking down a small path, his brain totally distracted by the scenery that he did not notice a break in the path and started to trip.  Youssef caught him, pulling him into his body.  Instead of face planting, he now had the threat of cardiac arrest.  That was not the end of things, either.  On their visit to the Eiffel Tower, Youssef purchased lift tickets for them.  The few minutes in the elevator were excruciating.  He had noticed at the museum gardens, but again in the enclosed space, Youssef had a signature scent.  It smelled like a combination of sweet marshmallowy tones, layered with a rich sandalwood smell, almost akin to being around a summer campfire.  He wanted to pass out in his arms.  And then…the Louvre.  Charlie Spring, his favorite Truham student, had some sort of medical emergency.  Nathan, of course, was worried, but his worry was completely shattered by how sexy Youssef Farouk was when handling an emergency.  All Nathan could do was meekly hold the first aid kit and force himself not to look at Youssef.  And that takes it all back to the present day, the cheeky gall of his favorite student and his (presumed) boyfriend stepping out of line on an e-scooter, and most importantly…

Youssef Farouk, forgetting that Nathan Ajayi had not gone down to the restaurant for a snack as usual, walked out of the bathroom, freshly showered, with only a towel wrapped around his nether region.  Nathan audibly gasped.  Youssef audibly gasped and blushed.

“Oh shit, sorry!” he said, grabbing some clothing and running back into the bathroom.  Nathan just started laughing, almost maniacally.   “Stop laughing!!!” Youssef yelled back at him, the door firmly closed.  

“I’m sorry!  I just didn’t expect such a show.  It really was perfect timing after this shit day,” he said, still chuckling.  Youssef, now clothed, came back out, still embarrassed.  

“Why was the day so shit again?  Nothing really happened?  But something has you upset,” he said to Nathan, looking very confused.  “Was it something I did?”  

“Oh, no no.  You have been perfectly lovely, Youssef.  It was…well one of the kids told me that they thought they saw Nick and Charlie on an e-scooter, zooming out of bounds.  Charlie is one of my Truham gaybies.  I would do anything for that child, his safety and happiness means so much to me, and here he is, practically groping some rugby lad on an e-scooter in Paris,” Nathan said, smacking his head with his hand.  “Although I do think the two of them are dating…” 

Something shifted in Youssef.  This was the first time that they had discussed anything remotely LGBTQ+ together.  He smiled, softly.  “I wish…well…I wish a lot of things, but I wish I had a teacher like you in high school.  My life would be a lot different…” he said, not finishing the statement, trailing off, eyes cast toward the door.  Without saying a word, he got up and headed to the door.  “I’m going to the restaurant bar. See you later.  Enjoy your shower,” he said, tensely, practically running out of the room. 

That was very clearly a sign. 

Later that night, he and Youssef did an evening patrol.  Everything seemed to be in the clear, until they reached the vending machine area, which had a sizable alcove.  From afar, Nathan could see the tall, blonde rugby lad, pressed up against none other than his favorite, Charlie Spring.  They were definitely snogging.  Nathan’s heart simultaneously swelled with pride that his student had found some semblance of romance after what he endured, even more so because it was a rugby lad (yay, progress!), while also wretched a little bit because now he was going to have to adult and tell them off.  Well, Youssef beat him to that.  

“It’s past 11 boys, you should be in your room,” he said sternly.  

“But sir, we were just…”

“Off you go,” he replied quietly.  The two boys trodded off, looking a bit crestfallen.  

When they were out of range, Youssef started getting something from the vending machine, and Nathan turned to talk to him. 

“Couldn’t you have let them off easily…those are the two that are clearly dating.  The ones I mentioned earlier,” he said.

“Wait…those two?  They’re dating?” Youssef asked, genuinely surprised.  He did not know Nick or Charlie before the trip, so putting the two together might have been a bit harder to do. 

“Seems pretty obvious to me.  Reminds me of my teenage years…pretty sure I did the same thing, sneaking around with a boy like that,” Nathan said, reminiscing.   Youssef looked at him quizzically, apparently unfamiliar with the experience.  

“Oh come on…you’ve never done that? Sneaking off with a boy on a school trip?” Nathan asked, almost ribbing him a bit.  He immediately felt bad, as Youssef appeared glum, and very quiet.  

“Well…when you don’t come to terms with your sexuality until your mid-twenties, you tend to miss those beautiful gay teenage experiences, like traipsying around hotel hallways looking for random alcoves to snog in,” he said sarcastically.  

Nathan looked surprised.  “But…aren’t you 26?  That…recent?”  he asked.  Youssef shook his head mournfully.  

“Yep. That recent.  Definitely too late for youthful moments of discovery,” he said, quietly brushing his hair and scratching his neck.  

Nathan, who had started picking up a snack from the vending machine, chuckled a bit.  “I don’t really think there’s an age limit on such a thing, Youssef,” he said playfully.  

“Huh.  You flirting with me, Nathan Ajayi?”  he asked, a bit bashfully.  

“Maybe,” Nathan said, standing up to face him, giving him a slight wink.  Youssef’s face burned pink.  Before he could say anything else, Nathan waved him on.  “We better get back to our room, hm? Come on.”

Nathan’s walk was whimsical at this point, and incredibly light in the step.  He peaked over his shoulder to see Youssef, still blushing intensely.  The wheels were turning, and the stoplight was now on green.  He thought for sure, no he was absolutely certain that Youssef was adorably smitten with him.  Both of them would be having sweet dreams tonight.  They might only have one night left after this, but…Nathan Ajayi was already making plans for it, plans that would involve a bottle of a French red wine from whatever region, some very direct flirting, one bed, and he and Youssef Farouk spending their last night in Paris in that bed. 

Chapter Text

Several times that week, Tori Spring had felt incredible bursts of emotion that she could not quite explain, mostly because she spent the bulk of her time sleeping or blogging in her room, definitely not emoting.  Summer was for sleep, not school in any form, including school trips.  The only people she regularly interacted with were her cold mother (definitely no emotions there) and her father really. While her father was growing on her as time passed, he definitely was not the source of those emotions, either.  She knew what emotions felt like, of course, she was not some android, but these felt…highly dysregulated, intense, and of unnatural familiarity.    She could best describe them as clawing, anxious pricks of feeling, like a small herd of feral cats had been released in her brain, fighting her and each other.   The first time this happened, Tori sat at her desk, breathing deeply; eventually the feeling lessened, but she kept quieting her mind with the hopes that she could cut it off entirely.  The second time it happened, it felt so awful, she shrieked.  Not like a squeal or scare-someone sort of scream, but a purely guttural shriek.  It FUCKING hurt.  That shriek alerted her father, Julio Spring, who came running from his at-home office.  Normally, Tori’s room was a “knock only if desperately needed,” area of the house, but not in this instance.  

“Tori!” he shouted, bursting through the door at a breakneck pace.  “What is happening, dear?”  He leaned down next to her, as she laid on the bed, writhing in pain.  

“Emotions.  Literally hurting.  Cannot breathe easily,” she shakily got out of her mouth, gasping.  

“Okay, focus on me, Tori.  The breath you can take, try to focus on keeping it as regular as possible.”  Julio Spring simulated some breathing patterns to try.

“Christ dad, it’s like I’m practicing birthing breathing,” she said, gritting her teeth, attempting some different breath patterns, slowly reigning in some of the pain she felt.  Her father almost laughed.  

“It will pass, Tori.  Just keep breathing,” he kept saying, over and over again.  

Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, but was only actually 30 seconds or so, the pain mostly passed, and things seemed to normalize.  It was still there, but much duller.  Less present.  Definitely not guttural pain.  Tori sat up in bed, but with her eyes closed, trying to search her mind for anything else she could feel.  She needed some sort of clue as to who felt that way.  Where were they?  Could she help them?  It would be nice.  No, it would be incredibly nice not to get such painful episodes at random times.  It even put Becky’s period cramps to shame with intensity, thankfully not duration.  Her father stayed with her a bit longer, until the peace was interrupted when he received a phone call.  Taking out his phone, he scrunched his face a bit.  

“Give me a second, Tori.  Unknown number…could be work, who knows,” he said, stepping out of the room.  

Tori scanned her brain relentlessly as her father took the phone call.  She could hear him murmuring, asking questions, but it was muffled enough that she could not tell what it was about.  Nothing.  Nothing was making sense to her.  Those feelings had a second sense to them.  Some sort of imprint that came with them, as if they had an ID badge, but it was written in an unfamiliar language.  She groaned in frustration, hating not knowing what to do.  Before she got the chance to beat herself up, her dad knocked on the door again, letting himself in. 

“Well…I think I know what’s going on.  Unfortunately, it involves your brother,” his dad said, sighing slightly.  

“What happened to Charlie?” Tori asked, panic stricken.  

“It appears that your brother had an anxiety attack at the Louvre, which led to a small faint when combined with the heat.  He’s okay now, but…oh god, I can only imagine what’s caused that.  He has been particularly nondescript with his text messages,”  Julio Spring drawled on, deep in thought.  

“So you think…you think that I was feeling his anxiety attack?  From Paris, I felt his anxiety attack,” Tori said, blankly.  That explained the feeling of familiarity. 

“Quite possibly.  I just want to know what caused it…he’s had those strange dreams, it could be anything,” he said.  

“Well, dad…I know you don’t like this idea, well you probably won’t like this idea, generally speaking…but perhaps we use magic to figure out what’s going on?  I mean, if there’s a way to even reasonably do so, that is,” Tori mused.  

Julio Spring sat there and thought for a second, biting his lip.  He was clearly thinking through the alternatives, but he could not escape the fact that phone calls and texts were not good enough at this point, and that his son was just incredibly good at lying or covering up what he was feeling.  Hmm, I wonder where he got that from.   “Well…I think it is time I introduce you to the ancient art of scrying, Victoria.  It was a favorite of your abuela’s,” he said wistfully.  “Your mother’s gone out to the shops, so let’s do this now.  Come on, chop chop.”  He motioned for her to get out of bed.  

They descended the stairs, down to the kitchen.  Tori eyed her father filling up a bowl of water, setting it aside on the counter.  He opened the kitchen cabinets and eyed the herbs and spices stashed there.  

“Tori, go outside and pick a rose flower off one of the back rows.  Far enough back that your mother won’t notice,” he said as he picked out some jars from the cabinet.  Tori nodded as he muttered to himself, looking through the stock. 

It was muggy and gross, which Tori would have known had she ever checked the weather app on her phone.  That definitely was a rare occurrence due to the fact that she intended on going absolutely nowhere that week.  She headed back to the rose bushes, her mother’s prized gardening accomplishment.  The thought of ripping one of the flowers clean off the stem gave her such an odd sense of joy.   Tori hated the garden.  Her mother cared more about the garden than her own kids, and thus Tori hated it.  With a passion.  The garden was something that was much easier to control.  The plants did not have complex emotions, they did not push back against her will, they did not talk back in anger at her complete lack of understanding.  They just grew, looked pretty, and died.  If Tori could get away with hacking up all of the roses, she would.  Just one would do…for now.  Turning around, rose flower in hand, she noticed her dad in the conservatory, and so she slid open the door, letting herself in.  

“Oh gosh…it smells like a spice cookie in here, mixed with a scent reminiscent of the last time mom tried to make French food,” Tori said, retching at the odd mixture.  Her father had placed the bowl on top of a heating pad, the water under it at a gentle simmer.  

“What you are smelling is the peculiar mixture of thyme, star anise, cinnamon, and clove.  All we need is the introduction of those rose petals, and a bit of time…and then we can get started,” he replied, grinning.  “But…when you pluck those petals off…think about what you want from this.  Think about how we are trying to see what’s going on with Charlie.”  

Tori nodded, taking a deep breath.  Focus on your brother. What’s going on in his mind?  Magic, show us the way.  Let us help Charlie.  She started plucking off petals, one by one, dropping them into the simmering liquid below, continuing to focus on her brother as she continued to pluck until the bud was bare.  The bright yellow petals below floated on the simmering surface, slowly curling up in their exposure to the heat.  They sat and waited, eying the petals as they continued to shrivel, the scent of rose wafting with the spiced cinnamon and anise, mingling with the thymol-infused vapors as they poured forth from the liquid. It was quite a smell - floral, spiced, and earthy.  Her father took a deep breath, and nodded. 

“I think it is ready.  When you can really smell it all…that’s when you know it is good to go,” he said, smiling.  

Tori thought about how he must have done this with their abuela in the past, and she smiled.  It gave her some odd comfort to think such a thing.  

“Okay, what do we do now?” she asked.  

“Well, the incantation is in Latin.   Hmmm the two of us…videamus. Well your abuela would just say “what we wish,” so I suppose that could work if we focus enough.   Hmm, that’s quid velimus, I think.  So, videamus quid velimus…let us see what we wish,” he reasoned out. 

“Are you sure about that, because you don’t exactly seem very certain,” Tori quipped at her father.  One of the few lessons Tori had learned from him recently was that certainty was preferred with magic, not uncertainty.  

“Well, not 100% sure, but if my memory serves me, it will work,” he chuckled.  “Here, sit next to me.  I know it is weird, but we should hold hands, too, as we are incanting,” he said . 

“Eww, gross,” Tori said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.  

“I know, so gross, holding your dad’s hand.  Okay, remember to focus on Charlie and try to see what’s going on with him in Paris,” he reminded her.  “In fact, let’s focus on that for a minute or two before we start.” 

And so they did.  They sat in silence for a minute, breathing, until Tori felt a little squeeze on her hand, followed by, “You ready?”  She nodded her head.  

Together, they chanted “Videamus quid velimus” several times, repeating it steadily.  As they worked, the sizzle of the water changed slightly to a muted boil, the liquid smoking a bit, the waters churning, and then suddenly…a clear purple color emerged, the waters stilled.  

“Okay…and now, we watch,” Julio Spring said, with bated breath.  Both of them peered into the liquid below.

Shadows.  Bones.  A cloaked figure emerges from a doorway, a distance away from a group of people.  They look young.  A glimmering stone, dark as the night sky.  Shadows, again.  Bones and bodies.  A flash of light.  A blonde girl, she looks ill.  Another flash of light.  The cloaked figure again, their skin so pallid.  Darkness, bones, bodies.  Death.

The images start to disappear, the liquid bubbling again.  It no longer smells like roses, spice cookies, and cooking.  It smells like rot, like blight.  What Tori could only imagine death smelled like.  She felt sick.  She felt like she could vomit on the spot, that was how heinous the scent was. Her father did not fare much better, his face screwed up, sweating.  They both stood up, scurrying from the room to the outdoors for fresh air.  Julio Spring was the first of the two to speak, breathing shallowly.  

“If,” he said, slowly, trying to choke back the urge to be sick, “If you couldn’t tell,” he paused again.  “We’re dealing with death.  Death magic.  Necromancy.” 

“That sounds like something that Charlie is much too young to deal with on his own, even with Nick,” Tori replied, her breath still ragged.  

Her father just nodded, slowly.  “I’ll be leaving for Paris in the morning.  I’ll tell your mother it was a business trip.  They’re in great danger.  Such great danger.”

In Paris, Stéphane Nelson flipped through his Grimoire earnestly, for the second time that evening.  Something in the old book had to be helpful, yet he continued to miss it or completely overlook it.  He stopped on the Necromancy page again, re-reading it, over and over.  Did he expect something new to magically appear before his eyes?  Or somehow gain new, unusual insights?  Frustrated, he slammed the book shut.  “Am I destined to be just as much of a failure as my father?” he thought,  steeped in melancholy.  “Am I doomed to be mediocre at best, useless at worst?”  He stared out of his window, viewing the evening set in over the City of Lights.  For a decade, he had successfully hidden from this conversation, outrunning it when necessary, but now it had caught him.  Frustrated, he made himself some herbal tea.  It was too late for an espresso, but some sort of comfort beverage was necessary.  His hands shook slightly as he readied the kettle.  

Waiting for the water to boil, his melancholy overtook him, driving his mind down an introspective journey through his past.  What a past it was.  He closed his eyes, and suddenly he was running through fields of lavender in Provence.  The warm sun on his back, his long hair flowing in the breeze.  The smell of lavender consuming the senses, blocking out everything.  Honey bees bumbling around him, going about their business pollinating and collecting their food.  Carefree feelings of a seven year old child.  Seeing his family’s small cottage up ahead, overlooking their fields, the stacked stone fence outlining the yard, the family gardens filled with different herbs and food crops, their scents being overwhelmed by the lavender.  Sauntering up to the gate, but stopping as he entered the yard.  This day.  It was so easy to remember this day, the seeming idyllic nature of it, the seeming perfection of it.  Until this point.  His mind saw it then, the broken window, the cast iron pan that had broken it.  Running into the house, seeing his mother balled up on the loveseat, sobbing, shaking, heartbroken.  Heartbroken on the loveseat. The irony. 

Soon, the kettle whistled.  He had not realized how long he was revisiting those sour memories.  Plopping a tea bag into a mug, he poured the boiling water over it unceremoniously.  That had been the day that his father had left their family, without much explanation at all.  He had simply packed a bag, told his wife that he was going for good, setting off a screaming and shouting match, none of which made sense to Stéphane’s mother at all, all of which ended with the cast iron pan flying past his father’s head (thankfully?), into the window, and out into the garden.  That day, both of their lives began to unravel, in different ways.  Elder Mrs. Nelson, Stéphane’s paternal grandmother, moved in with them.  She had lived through the same thing with her husband.  A pattern that stretched back through the centuries, apparently, very rarely broken.  Something about the south of France made the Nelson men flee the structure of family life and marriage.  She had warned Stéphane’s mother, apparently.  Now she had come to do what her husband’s mother had done for her, too – pick up the pieces, get both her daughter-in-law and grandchild through the worst of things, but especially, guide the child.  She knew about the fae magic that dwelt in his blood. 

Stéphane found it ironically funny how well that had all turned out, as he sat there, a father who had abandoned his wife and children.  How well it had turned out, that he was incapable of doing some of the most basic magical aspects of being fae.  The parallels between him and his father made his stomach turn, the only difference being that he excused his transience and abandonment with work instead of philosophical philandering.  But despite this, he had left behind a kind woman, a bruised yet golden-hearted child, and an absolute knob who needed guidance to straighten himself out.  Out of fear of repeating the past, of damning his children, he manifested them exactly as he feared.  He remembered the moments leading up to it, all too well.  He took a small swig of his tea, which at this point had over-steeped.  A tear dripped down his cheek, dropping to the floor as he let out a small sob.  He loved his family so much, but how could they ever think of returning that love after what he had done and continued to do?  If these events in Paris had taught him anything, it was that perhaps it was just best to try, to stop making excuses all the damn time, and just do it without expecting that love to be returned.  Some lyrics from a musical he had seen years ago while on a “date” flashed back into his head.

Vivre / Pour celui qu'on aime / Aimer / Plus que l'amour même / Donner / Sans rien attendre en retour

As he sat there, thinking about those lyrics, his mug of tea in his left hand, a spark of light shot between his thumb, pinky, and index finger, startling him so much that he almost dropped his tea.  His mind flashed back to his grandmother, and her eternal wisdom.  “No one succeeds at much of anything with a broken and bruised heart, Stéphane.  Always remember that.”

A few miles away, Darcy Olsson was thinking about what Charlie Spring had just told their friend group earlier.  She thought about their conversation on the observation deck of the Eiffel Tower.  She thought about the weird occurrences she had noticed over the past few months, but especially those in the past few weeks.  Things seemingly appearing after she thought about them, things coming to her, almost magically upon request.  Knowing that magic actually existed only validated her feelings more and more.  Charlie had still not asked her to try to demonstrate what she thought her ability was, and the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to practice, alone.  That night, she told Tara that she wanted to get some snacks from the vending machine, nothing too suspicious.  Nothing suspicious at all.  She peeked her head out of the door, checking to see if anyone was already at the vending machine area. Nope, no one.  Quietly, she scurried over.  Suddenly she heard some giggling, and some smooching.  Someone was definitely snogging in the alcove next to the vending machine, somehow hidden by the machines.  

Maneuvering herself so that she would not see who it was, she looked at the vending selection.  There were some interesting looking cookies available, those would certainly do.  Whoever was snogging had gone silent, though.  

“Oh, don’t stop on my account.  I just want snacks,” she said, chuckling a bit.  Soon after she said that, Nick Nelson and Charlie Spring both peaked their heads out from the alcove. 

“Oh my god, I’m unintentionally being homophobic by interrupting.  Seriously, have at it.  I mean, it is 10:30, the teachers are probably going to do rounds at some point,” she said apologetically.  

Both of the boys blushed intensely, nodding, and retreating back into the alcove a bit more.  Not only did she not want to interrupt, but she did not want to be interrupted.  Turning her attention to the cookies again, she focused intensely on them.  Their name and information was in French, but the cookie looked amazing, a shortbread or something entirely biscuit-like covered in a solid layer of chocolate on top.  Darcy salivated a bit, thinking about how delicious that sounded at the moment.  Not only that, but it was a two-pack, which meant she could give one to Tara.  That was really a win-win situation in her mind.  She was developing a scenario in her mind.  These delicious cookies, covered in chocolate, a nice evening snack making her feel good, providing an unexpected snack for Tara, who had not asked for one.  “I want them.  I need them,” she thought. For a moment Darcy thought that she was silly, that nothing was happening or going to happen, but she cut that intrusive thought down, just like she had when she first doubted her sexuality.  

“Come to me, delicious snack cookies,” she muttered under her breath.  “Come to me.”  

Suddenly, it all clicked.  The spiral mechanism that held the cookies in place started to slowly move, twisting itself, pushing a package of cookies forward.  One package fell down with a soft clunk, and the mechanism continued to twist and twist.  A second package slid out, and before Darcy knew it, a third.  She was so surprised, she nearly gasped.  She had not seen the prior events physically happen, but experienced the end results.  For the first time, she had seen her manifestations come alive right in front of her face.  So what, if it was just a little bit of light theft? No one would be able to prove it.  She had literally just stared at the selections and the machine for a few minutes.  Snapping herself out of it, she chuckled, and grabbed the three snack bags, running back to her room with them in hand.  

In the vending machine alcove, Charlie Spring suddenly stopped snogging Nick Nelson.  Besides the fact that things were getting rather spicy, he was completely distracted by Darcy’s presence and everything he had just witnessed.  

“Char, what’s wrong?” Nick asked, sad that Charlie had stopped kissing him. 

“Uh…I know you probably weren’t paying attention, but…did you hear Darcy put money in or click the vending buttons at all?”  he asked quietly.  

Nick thought about it for a moment.  “Honestly, no.  Why do you ask?” he wondered with some confusion on his face. 

“Well…I’m pretty sure she made no physical selection, put no money in, did not shake the machine or otherwise touch it until she pulled snacks out of the bottom,” he said, thinking intensely about what had happened, glancing up to Nick and giving him the look. 

Nick’s eyes widened, like a lightbulb went off.  “So…you think Darcy’s a Caster or something?”  

Charlie just nodded his head.  A caster, or something.  Yet another thing to figure out, in Paris.  Nick, sensing a bit of anxiety bubbling up in Charlie, pulled him back in for another kiss.  They will figure this out, together, tomorrow.  Tonight was for vending machine alcove snogging.  

Chapter Text

Inge Hrafenson grew up in the countryside of Scandinavia.  It had been a jarldom at one point, prior to Christianization, prior to centralization.  His mother, Hrafena, was the jarldom’s most famous (or infamous, depending on who you asked) seiðkonur, and she taught Inge everything about seiðr that they knew.  That was the beginning of their problems, historically speaking.  It was ergi, or taboo, for men to practice the craft of sight, of soothsaying.  Inge did not feel that mattered, though.  Both male and female expectations of society crushed them, wholly.  They aspired for something completely different from their lived experience, and as such, prayed to the Gods to show them their way forward out of such strictures.  Beyond prayer, Inge took up some of the practices of the Allfather, the Seeker of Knowledge, Odin.  During a meditation session under the snow-pack's runoff waterfall, that was when the vision took them. 

A harsh land, wind swirling with dusty grains in the air.  Magnificent stone blocked structures emerging from the dusty Earth, not far away from a great river.  Darkness and death, dancing in the tombs of the ancients.  Men chanting, their voices calling to the dead.  The leader of the group carrying an amulet, opulent, glowing along to the chants.  A voice, not in the tongue of the group, called to them, telling them that eternal life could be achieved, at a price.  If they were interested.

That spring, Inge set off on a viking, seeking the land from afar in their vision.  Their traveling companions looked upon them with hesitation, for they were ergi, they were dirty in the companions eyes.  One in particular, Harold Grönsen, had threatened violence against Inge on multiple occasions, all of which were ignored by the ship’s captain.  Harold was brutish, full of himself, and a glory seeker at the expense of others.  To prove to their shipmates the value of a hardy soothsayer, Inge divined their first plunder on the coast of Estonia.  They left out the fact that it would be particularly dangerous, yet exhilarating.  Harold Grönsen succumbed to battle wounds, and was left upon a pyre in the town they had pillaged.  The relative success and subsequent lack of input from Harold had caused a mix of respect and fear of Inge on the boat, to the point that the captain heard their description of their vision with intrigue, pledging to pursue it.  

They sailed great rivers inland, finding the majestic Dnipro, passing through the kingdom of the Rus, trading, but barely raiding, soon passing into The Black Sea.  Months passed, and they made their way through the ancient city of Constantinople, which their people called Miklagard, its foreboding walls soaring above them.  Even longer, and finally they reached a semblance of Inge’s vision.  The Miklagardians had told them of the land from Inge’s vision.  Kemet, Aigyptos, Aegyptus, all names they called the land.  They told them of the sands, the warm snow of the land, and the great river flowing north to the sea.  That is where Inge found out about death magic.  

Their band of rugged Norsemen had broken into a grand tomb, near the structures that Inge had seen in their vision.  Inge had grown close to the brutes, viewing them all as brothers almost.  At this point, their trust in each other was probably as good as it would ever be. They sorted through the possessions of the tomb, hungry to find riches to take back to Scandinavia with them.  One of the bunch, Bjorn Hoppsen began sorting through a pile of goods, carefully wrapped in linen, where he found a small black book, ornate with gold foil.  Bjorn did not know how to read, but instead of tossing it away, he threw the book to Inge.  

“What is it about, Inge?” he asked inquisitively.  He may not be literate, but he possessed a modicum of intellectual curiosity for a raider.  

Inge flipped through the pages, each passing page embossed with colorful symbols that he could not quite understand, akin to the runes of their people.  “I…I don’t know, Bjorn,” they replied quietly, continuing to flip through the pages.  At some point, Inge reached a group of pages that flipped with some difficulty, as something was stuck in the spine of the book, having been aggressively shoved in between two pages to the point that it pierced the binding material.  Uncertain as to what it could be, Inge clawed at the object with their thin fingernails.  It felt metallic, and cool to the touch.  With some force, they extracted the object from the binding.  A setting of an amulet or pendant, in a warm gold, shaped like the eye of a serpent.  Inge closed their eyes, revisiting the vision from long ago, seeing the amulet hanging from the hand of the leader who was chanting.  This was the tomb, this was the place. Quieting their mind, Inge heard the same voice who had called to them before during the vision.

Read the book, Inge.  Eternal life can be yours.  Are you brave enough to do it?  Open to the page where you found the amulet, Inge.  Read it, Inge.  

Inge, entranced by the unknown voice, opened the page while the others around them continued to raid the tombs and burial goods.  Looking down at the page, the previous hieroglyphs had started to meld into words, words familiar to Inge, and Inge started to read as encouraged, dazed.  It was only when they had read through the passage once and moved to repeat it that they heard the screams.  The screams of pain around them, as their fellow crew members collapsed in heaps, writhing as their lives were extinguished before them, their life essence wafting as a vapor into the air.  It hovered as a cloud in the tomb, not seemingly being ventilated to the outside.  Then the voice came again. 

Breathe it in, Inge.  Suckle the sweet essence of life.  

And they did, and as they did so, the voice cackled.  Inge breathed in the life force of the crew, inhaling deeply until it was gone.  They nearly retched at the feelings that followed, the pain shooting through them, their average muscles descending into a thinner, sinewy composition, their plump face and average fingers hollowing, becoming skeletal.  They had breathed in the essence of life, yet had cursed themselves with death-like qualities.  It is with the pain that accompanied this mangling transformation that Inge suddenly snapped out of the daze from before.  Dazed pain led to terror, as they looked around and saw the dead bodies of their crew, no, their friends laying around the tomb, each of them contorted painfully, eyes rolled back, mouths wide with anguish.  What had they done?  

Those memories clouded Inge’s mind as they headed through the hills of southern Spain.  One thing that Inge was thankful for was that necromancy even allowed for incantations of fast travel, among countless other wonders. Their journey through necromancy had been worth the price, regardless of its physical and spiritual deformities, and now they were so close to reaching their goal – immense power over the dead and peerless magical power.   They had had plenty of time to feel remorse and grieve for the events of centuries ago, as they had set off a series of events that had granted them near immortality.   Their search for the Ophidian Amulet stretched across those centuries, through war and political upheaval, assassinations and defenestrations, famine and strife.  So what if they had caused a world war that led to socioeconomic disruptions, just to steal the left Ophidian Emerald from the Austrian Hapsburgs?  They were not even using it.  All of Inge’s journeying had led them to establish a base in Paris, for its relative centrality partially, but also its immense connection to the dead and rumored location of the Ophidian Opal.  The latter part had been a disappointment thus far.

The one person from their prolonged life that they legitimately missed was their mother.  Inge had legitimately wondered what had happened to her; the last time they had stepped foot in Scandinavia was before they left to viking.  Return had been virtually impossible at that point, without a crew, and then the search for power had overtaken Inge’s motivations completely.  When they acquired the completed amulet, Inge thought of returning and seeking her grave, if it even still existed undisturbed. Their mother’s magic was powerful, and while they had taught Inge a lot about divination, there was always more.  Divination was useful.  It had shown them the setting of the amulet, it had revealed events to interfere with to acquire one of the emeralds, and now, it had shown them the location of the opal.  They routinely scryed for the opal, and on one of those routine attempts, some hapless Caster or magical being had examined the opal in such a way that it released some signature of its power.  Anyone intently looking for it would be able to find it.

Andalusia was hot at that time of the year, uncomfortably so, and it reminded Inge of Egypt, except without gratuitous amounts of sand.  They were beginning to hone in on where the opal rested, they could sense it, that’s how greatly attuned they were to the death magic it released.  Now they just had to withstand the heat; their black cloak (practically a necessity for a necromancer, sartorially speaking) was certainly not helping, but going without it would mean definitive sunburn.  Something about necromancy diminished one’s physical tolerance for the sunlight beyond what even a freckly red-head could tolerate.  Inge practically called for the opal every so often, feeling for the dark ripples it sent out, feeling their proximity.  They were descending a hillside into a moderately sized valley, sparsely populated, a few cottages spread out across that could be seen from above, with plenty of kilometers buffering the distance between the diminutive buildings.  The opal was pulling them close to one in particular, with well kept gardens, usually a tell-tale sign of a witch.  They scowled.  Casters and their herbs and flowers.  Too much life .  Inge continued to walk closer to the cottage, until a feeling in the air sent painful sparks through their body.  They had been warded against, and strongly.  This was a seasoned magical entity.

Inge retreated into some brush nearby to focus.  They would try other approaches, first trying to neutralize the wards.  Unsuccessful.  Whoever put up the barriers reinforced them against necromancy, probably upon figuring out the connection with the opal.  They tried summoning the opal, but again, it was blocked.  Despite studying necromancy for centuries and amassing power, the specificity of the warding against necromancy and dark magics was too much to overcome.  Their journey had been mostly useless at this point, as there was no physical or magical way to enter the cottage.  It would be a waste to try to raise the dead, as well, since the wards would probably immediately decommission them, and perhaps even instantly cremate them.  Frustrated, Inge focused their dark magic into slipping back to Paris.  They were at a magical dead-end, one that would require some research and plotting to overcome.  Events in Paris would fast-track that planning beyond Inge’s wildest dreams. 

Sometime in the day, Inge was contemplating their next move when they felt it.  A slight ping in the shoulders, small knots of tension that arose whenever something or someone successfully decommissioned one of their undead thralls.  Only magic could do that, and although they had supposed some sort of magical being resided in Paris, they had never really had a moment to confirm who or what it could be.  Piqued in interest, Inge employed a variety of divination tools to examine the situation - bones, entrails, crystals, meditative ointments that caused visions – all of them turned up similar stories.  There were four different magical beings connected by fate to the undead thrall’s premature unanimation, some directly and indirectly.  Their magical signatures reverberated gently, telling Inge enough to know of Casters and Fae.  They hissed under their breath; the fae and their light magic made them sworn enemies of all necromancers. What was their connection to the Casters, if any?  Better yet, what powers did the Casters possess?  Divination could only get Inge so far, as the specifics were sometimes clouded via magic or fate in general.  

Inge contemplated this on their usual walk from Montmartre to the Catacombes de Paris, during the early evening hours.  They would have to continue divining or set some sort of maniacal trap for the Casters, or something of that nature.  If they could not be useful to obtaining the opal, Inge could always kill them and reanimate them.  They certainly could make valuable undead assets and it would be an entirely new challenge for their necromancy, as they had never tried out death magic on magical beings.  This heavy contemplation provided plenty of entertainment for the long walk between their lair under the Sacre Coeur and the Catacombes, which Inge continued to study intensely and meditate in during the evening hours.  Contemplation also helped Inge block out any stares and loud noise from the world around them, the modern world which they detested.  Turning the corner onto the street parallel to the Canal Saint Martin, Inge felt a magical impulse that dragged them out of their contemplation intensely.  Across the way, in front of a convenience store, stood a girl with fake-looking blonde hair and a boy with dark, curly hair.  If Inge had much human emotion left, they would find the two of them quite striking and innocently adorable;  that facet of Inge had died off centuries ago.  Struck by their appearance and the feeling of magic, Inge paused and looked from afar.  That’s when they saw it. 

The girl had been focusing intently on something for a few moments, and whatever concentration she had was magically charged.  The boy looked on with extreme consternation and curiosity.  After pouring such focus into whatever she was thinking about, suddenly a small pink spark crackled, softly enough that only the magically inclined could truly hear it, only bright enough that magical beings could see it, but powerful enough that anyone could sense it.   The non-magically inclined were just too ignorant to understand what they had sensed.  From that spark, a small glass bottle appeared in the girl’s hands.  The boy next to her jumped slightly in surprise, letting out an audible gasp.  The girl let out a rowdy cheer, hoisting her arms in the air, gripping the bottle tightly before the boy grabbed her shoulder and led her away from the store, clearly not wanting to attract attention to themselves.  Inge followed them from afar, seeing them slink back into a nearby hotel.  Fate worked in mysterious ways.  Apparently the Casters had been on the route of their evening walk the entire time, and one was a Summoner or Manifester .  What luck!  Certainly not for her, though.  Inge started calculating all of the particulars for how they would compel the young Caster to summon the Ophidian Opal for them.  Inge had carried out heists before, manipulated political rivals, aided in assassinations, helped start a world war, but for the first time in 1000 years, had to consider their first kidnapping and hostage plan.  A wicked smile crossed their face.  What a plan it would be. 

Chapter Text

Breakfast on the last full day of the Paris trip was an incredibly raucous occasion, as it also happened to be Tara’s 16th birthday.   The entire squad plus at least half of the other students sang a vivacious rendition of happy birthday to her, much to the chagrin of the other breakfast guests hoping for a peaceful morning.  They were set to walk through Les Jardins des Tuileries and then walk Avenue des Champs Élysées all the way up to the Arc de Triomphe.  Nick and Charlie were peering at the map on their phone, noting all of the high end stores on the route, including the various jewelers.  It was quintessentially Parisian in nature - glamor, ending with a commemorative monument.   Elle gushed about how much she wanted to go into Cartier, but also how much she would rather not because they would probably ask her to leave.  Nick was giddy about the flagship Adidas store being early on the route; he needed more jumpers to replace the ones Charlie had semi-permanently “borrowed.”  Tara, Sahar, and Darcy were giddy about the food options, especially the baked good options.  Imogen, who by this point had decided her Higgs friends in Paris were not worth it, was sitting next to Sahar, fantasizing aloud about being able to afford something from the Louis Vouitton boutique on the Avenue, before resigning herself to spending an hour in the Zara there.  They gushed on for several more minutes, before Mr. Ajayi tried to get their attention, which ultimately resulted in Mr. Farouk calling for quiet, but in a weirdly subdued way.  

“Now everyone, I know it is our last full day here in Paris…and quite obviously Tara’s birthday. Which means, naturally you’ll want to have a little…party tonight in your rooms.   Well, Yous-eh-Mr. Farouk and I have discussed this and we’re not going to ban that, but please make sure you are conducting yourselves safely and responsibly AND make sure to please keep the noise down, okay?”  Mr. Ajayi said, heavily emphasizing the last part about noise.

“A PARTY!!” Darcy shouted, with others around her yipping and cheering.  Tara looked particularly nonplussed. Now she would be spending her day talking Darcy down from completely chaotic party ideas.  

Mr. Farouk, cutting through the chatter with his usual booming voice said, “You can buy snacks and drinks while we’re out today, BUT – if I catch anyone with alcohol, there will be DIRE consequences.  Understood?”

Darcy immediately sensed a challenge she could meet, uttering a quiet “Hm.”  

Tara immediately noticed.  “Darcy, how would you even get alcohol?” she asked hesitantly. 

“You’ll see, Jonesy.  You’ll see,” she replied simply. 

“He literally just said we’re not allowed,” Tara replied, now incredibly concerned.

“You’ll see!” Darcy replied, some sass in her voice.  

After breakfast they piled into the coach and headed to Les Jardins des Tuileries.  Charlie grimaced a bit when they passed the Louvre, not unnoticed by Nick, who gripped his hand softly.  The memory was incredibly fresh, and still painful.  The bus stopped abruptly for them to file off and walk over to the gardens, which were adjacent to the Louvre.  Naturally, Isaac had to show off his encyclopedic knowledge of Paris to the group.  

“They were built by Catherine de Medici, wife of Henry II,” Isaac said excitedly.  “She was a meddling boss ass bitch, tbh.”  

Nick laughed.  “Whatever do you mean, Isaac?”  he asked.  

“She persisted through her husband’s affairs.  Had an infamous feud with his mistress, Diane de Poitiers, and then pulled strings to head her son’s regency, which was uncommon at the time.  She basically became a major policy maker and played a massive role in government until her death,” Isaac replied. 

“Ugh, men have always been the worst,” Darcy replied sarcastically. 

“We must stan a true girlboss though,” Elle replied.  Tara just rolled her eyes.  

“I for one am glad that those times are long gone.  I actually looked her up on the coach. Sounds like absolute hell,” she said.  She looked at Charlie for a second.  “Oddly enough, she has occult links…including to people interested in Necromancy.  She even gave patronage to astronomers who apparently dabbled in it. ”  

Charlie guffawed.  “Next you’re going to tell me that there was some conspiracy regarding the Ophidian Amulet that they tried to rope her into,” he said sarcastically.  

Everyone stopped in the middle of the pathway and looked at him.  At this point, such a historical conspiracy could very well be a possibility.   Before they carried on conversation, Sahar and Imogen caught up with them.  They had gotten held up reading different signs and placards on some of the well placed statues.  

“Gosh this place is so lovely,” Imogen gushed.  “Can you imagine an evening stroll in here after a date, as the sun sets?”  

Sahar giggled.  “What a proper romantic,” she said lightly.  

The walk up the Champs Élysées was quite spectacular, if not somewhat overwhelming.  Beyond the fact that the “Avenue” itself was more akin to a grand boulevard, there were just so many people and so many shops all over.  They had spent so much time meandering the Tuileries that they had to cut down shop time a bit, which was fine.  They really did not have the money to be hitting up boutiques and high end places, anyway.  Nick did find an aubergine purple jumper at the Adidas store, which also had a stripe of blue horizontally through the center and the Adidas symbol in a soft pink, one that he had never seen in any store in the UK.  The visibly bisexual color theme was a clear indicator to purchase one for himself, and with success, he even got Charlie to promise never to steal or wear it, since it was his bisexual jumper.  He did not think for a second that Charlie would actually honor that wish.  Eventually the group had satisfied their retail curiosity, even Elle, who had peeked into the windows of Cartier, had decided she had enough.  Imogen, carting 3 bags from Zara, begged Nick to carry one for her to give her hands a bit of a rest.  She swore it was absolutely necessary for the party later that night.  

“I’ve always served looks, and I can’t stop now,” she said, smiling mischievously.  Tara and Darcy both chuckled.  

They took photos at the Arc de Triomphe, trying to be as cute as possible.  Nick even posted the photo on Instagram, with a red heart emoji caption.  He swore to Charlie that he was trying to be braver and do small things to come out, which made Charlie incredibly happy.  At this point, if someone was following them on Instagram and did not piece together the fact that they were dating, they were dense beyond belief.  Nick had taken the photo as a selfie, despite Imogen’s insistence that she take the photo for them.  She snapped a few candids of them later on, which were incredibly adorable, but she refused to post them, claiming that they were for her personal collection of adorable Paris photos.  Charlie got in on the fun, too, but decided that he would take the piss out of Nick by posting a candid of him lapping some ice cream that he bought from a vendor stall at some point. Around lunch time they decided to find a cute cafe and grab some pizza; Charlie and Nick took up a spot at a two-person table while the rest of their friend group huddled around a larger table.  Nick insisted on this, calling it an official “Paris Pizza Date.”  

“Imogen sent me some of the photos after you begged her,” Nick said, munching on his pizza.  “I think I’ll definitely be printing some of them out for my wall.”  He blushed a bit.  

“You are too cute, Nicholas.  You’ll have to give me some copies, too,” Charlie replied, nibbling at his pizza.  

Nick smiled, admiring his boyfriend.  He knew that Charlie kept a secret photo album of them, but he did not know why and he did not want Charlie to know that he knew.

“So…this party tonight.  Are you excited?” Nick asked, with a strand of concern hanging in the air.

Charlie clearly had not thought about it a lot, and took a second to ponder everything before responding.  “I mean, yes, yes I am.  I’m kind of concerned about what happens if we don’t deal with this necromancer situation before we leave Paris, you know?”  

Nick nodded.  “I mean…that’s a fair point.  I doubt my dad will be able to do much on his own, if he even does anything at all.  So if nothing happens, do we just call it a day?”  Nick wondered. 

“A true ethical dilemma,” Charlie replied.  “The Book poses it as a duty and obligation to face Darkness wherever it is found, but…” 

“But…” Nick said quietly.  

“My dad told me that in the past, Casters would train and learn for years, basically until 20 before they became active practitioners.  We’re 15 and 16 respectively.  We should not even have to deal with this on our own at all,” he said, voice laden with frustration.  

Nick nodded along, the sentiments making sense completely.  “Doesn’t help that the Book doesn’t even say much about defeating necromancers,” he said, his mouth scrunching a bit.  Charlie always thought he looked particularly cute when his mouth scrunched up that way.

“We’ll figure something out, if we have to…but, I’m starting to think that if it isn’t necessary, we just leave this to adults,” Charlie said.  Before they could talk about anything else, Imogen wandered over to their table.  

“Hi cuties.  I just wanted to let you know…I’ve found out that Harry Greene is going to try to crash Darcy’s party later.  Which is totally unsurprising.  The boy can’t stand not being invited to parties,” she said, frowning as she spoke.  

“Oh,” Nick said, quietly, discomforted a bit.  “Thanks for telling us that, Imogen.”   Charlie looked annoyed.  

“I can’t believe that knob is going to try to worm his way into the party,” he said.  “Did Tara or Darcy send out the official guest list yet?” 

“No, but the teacher announcement at breakfast made it seem like anyone could go, which I mean…is totally ignorant of friend group dynamics and high school in general,” she said, toying with her hair.  

Nick chuckled.  “Friend group dynamics.  God.  Speaking of that, I sense that your friend group dynamics are shifting a bit?”  he asked curiously.  Charlie, who had been checking his phone, looked up, interest piqued.  

She sighed, her eyes seething with malcontent.  “I just wish I had realized what superficial twats my friends have been over the years.  It’s like Higgs as an institution keeps us from actually figuring out who we are,” she said through gritted teeth.  

Charlie just nodded, holding out a hand for her to grasp.  “It’s not really different at Truham, either,” he said, looking over at Nick, who was currently looking down, thinking about the whole conversation.  “All it takes is enough people making a backwards climate and not enough people sticking up against them or fighting to change it for people to feel its oppressive effects.”  

“This is why I like being with him so much, Imogen.  He waxes philosophical and it is just downright adorable, yet also mature and intelligent, and…” Nick trailed off a bit.

“Sexy?”  Imogen finished.  Charlie blushed profusely.  

“You two know that I am right here, right?” he said, mortified.  No sooner did he say that, did all of their phones ding at the same time, with a group message from Tara.

Tara Jones + 39 others

Tara:  Casual party in my room at 9PM tonight, Room 417.  Everyone in the text group is invited and you can wear PJs :) 

Darcy:  BRING SNACKS.  STHNAX!  ALL OF THEM.  ESPECIALLY PRINGLES. 

Darcy: also, I am in the process of acquiring vodka.  Trust the process. 

Elle:  How, Darcy, how?

Darcy:  I have my ways

Imogen groaned.  “A casual party?  But I bought three possible outfits, and it’s greenlit for PJs?” she said ruefully.  

Charlie typed back a response to the text group, affirming his and Nick’s attendance.  “You could always return them on the way back to the coach,”  he said, smirking.  

“Or, you could mix and match, hot girl top with pajama bottoms, or hot girl skirt/jeans with pajama top,” Nick said, shrugging his shoulders.  “Personally, I’m going to go in my pajamas and a hoodie.”  

“Which I will promptly steal,” Charlie added, Nick nodding a long, surrendering to the fact that his hoodies and jumpers would always be taken by Charlie at some point.  

“You know, Nelson…Your mix-and-match idea is not bad.  My sleeper shirt is practically a crop top, and these jeans are high-waisted.  Could be really cute.  Really cute,” she said, toying her fringe a bit, staring off into the distance before turning away to go back to the other table.  

“Uh, Char…I know that I’m traditionally quite romantically oblivious, but…do you think she’s got a crush on someone on the trip?  Like…she was really set to dress to the nines, you know?” Nick wondered.  

“I guess there’s a bunch of guys on the trip that she could be chirpsing.  I’m more curious about her budding “friendship” with Sahar,” Charlie said quietly.  Nick looked confused at him for a moment, not understanding the air quotes around friendship, but Charlie just shook his head.  “Never mind, Nicholas.  It is rude to speculate, so forget I said anything.”  Nick nodded at him slowly.  The thought of a queer Imogen Heaney had never even crossed his mind.  

The remainder of the day is relatively uneventful.  They trudged their way back to the coach, feet nearing exhaustion from the amount of walking they had cumulatively done that week, finally catching up to them.  The ride back to the hotel took a bit longer than expected due to traffic, which was fine, because it allowed everyone to fit a good power nap into their day, allowing them to rest up enough to grab espresso or coffee while out procuring snacks before the party.  Around 7:30, a knock sounds on the door of Room 414, one of a combination of nervous anxiety and excitement.  They had only just gotten back from an early dinner, so Charlie promptly answered the door, an air of extreme curiosity surrounding him.  Before him stood a fidgeting Darcy Olsson, a ball of nervous yet determined energy. 

“Oh.  Hi Darcy.  I wasn’t expecting you,” Charlie said.  

“Hi there.  Uh…do you want to take a quick walk with me?  I just wanted to talk,” she said nervously.  Charlie just nodded, knowing exactly what she wanted to talk about.  

“Hey Tao, I’ll be right back.  Don’t lock me out, please,” he called back into the room.  And so they headed off, going for the elevators, being the only occupants of one on the way down to the lobby.  

“So, this is definitely pamplemousse related,” she nearly blurted out. 

“I figured, Darcy.  After what you said at the Eiffel Tower,” Charlie replied, casually.  

Darcy scrunched her face a bit.  “I wouldn’t keep bugging you about this if I wasn’t absolutely certain of something.  And something happened last night that I am absolutely certain about,” she said with confidence. 

They were nearly at the lobby.  “The vending machine?” Charlie asked curiously. 

“How did you know?!” she asked with shock.

“I didn’t hear any buttons pushed or any money inserted, yet vending happened,” Charlie replied honestly.  “I even tried to rationalize through non-pamplemousse situations, and given how I was firmly pressed against the vending machine, I definitely did not feel it shake or anything.” 

“Wow, okay that’s gay.  Firmly pressed against the vending machine.  Love that for you,” she chuckled.  Charlie blushed.  They had just reached the lobby, and the moment the doors opened, Darcy made for the exit.   Charlie followed after her.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”  he asked cautiously.  

“I did say I would get vodka,” she replied mischievously.  Charlie just groaned.  

“And how on Earth do you plan to do that?” he asked, woeful of the response.  

“You’ll see.  I’ve got something to prove, don’t I?”  she replied, grinning.  

“Oh god!”  

They had booked it out of the hotel, headed toward a row of shops down the street, closer to the canal.  One of them was a convenience store that conveniently also stocked alcohol.  

“See we can make this non-awkward, Charles.  I’ll scope out the vodka I want, and you can buy snacks, and then we’ll leave and go from there,” she said, buzzing with optimism.  He simply looked at her with concern and dread on his face.  

Charlie took his time perusing the snack choices, ultimately settling on two different bags of crisps, one flavored sour cream and onion, the other salt and vinegar.  He also found some pop that seemingly appeared to be a cola, so he went and purchased that as well.  Might as well bring a bit of everything to the party, especially because he had no idea whether or not anyone would actually bring stuff or they would just show up to eat and drink.  Darcy appeared by his side, nothing in her hands, and just gave him a nod and a smile.  When the transaction was complete, Charlie thanked the clerk and they headed out of the store.  Once outside, and far enough away, he turned to Darcy. 

“Please tell me you did not shoplift alcohol,” he said sternly.  

“No, no, not at all.  I just wanted a good visual,” she replied, smiling.  He looked at her with confusion on his face, cocking his head to the side and his eyebrow raised in curiosity.  

“Okay…show me then.  Show me what you can do, because I just assumed your “Magic” act was swiping things, and now I’m really intrigued,” he said.

“Wow, I know I’m chaotic, but shoplifting?  Damn Charlie, I’m not that chaotic,” she laughed.  “Okay, give me a second.  I need to focus.”

Charlie watched as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  Her focus quickly intensified, as she started scrunching up her face a bit, her brows pointing inward, her eyes clamped shut.  She continued to take some deep breaths, as if she was quieting her thoughts and focusing on something in particular, trying to visualize it.  After a minute or two of this intensive concentration and breathing, suddenly Darcy moved her hands out in front of her, as if she was attempting to catch something or hold something small, something a bit weighted, but not too heavy.  Charlie was almost holding his own breath at this point, on edge, not knowing what to expect to happen, if anything at all.  Deep down, he knew something could happen. The vending machine situation from the previous night was just too peculiar to dismiss.  Darcy was not some hacker chick, did not physically mess with the machine, but most certainly did not pay for snacks, yet somehow got the machine to yield snacks.  He started to get lost in his thoughts, as Darcy continued her intense focus.  At this point, they were nearing five minutes of standing on the walkway, and Charlie was starting to wonder if people had noticed them.  He was just about ready to say something when it happened.  

A small flash of pink, with a harder to see twinge of orange.  A soft popping noise, delicate to the ear, quiet enough that one would only really hear it in incredibly close proximity.  And then, as fast as the flash and pop happened, so did the appearance of a small glass bottle of vodka, grotesquely labeled with a basic black label “La Vodka,” clearly off the bottom shelf.  Darcy cradled it in her hands, a look of victory on her face.  Charlie jumped in a delayed response, gasping loudly, very much surprised.  Darcy raised the bottle up in the air and cheered. 

“Victorious at last,” she said loudly.  

“Oh my god, shut up.  We’ve got to get off the street,” Charlie said, anxiously.  He grabbed her other arm, pulling her back to the hotel.  “You simply cannot do things like that in public, Darcy.  Anyone could have seen that happen,” he said again as they quickly approached the doors to the lobby. 

“Oh okay, calm down Mr. Spring,” she said nonchalantly.  “It will be fine.” 

Charlie simply heaved a sigh, pressing the button to get into an elevator.  Again, they lucked out that no one was really using the elevators at the time, and filed in together, without anyone else to bug them. 

“Listen, clearly you have some sort of magical ability, so we need to talk more about that, but remember what I said about using magic willy nilly, Darcy?”  he asked, sternly.  “Bad things can happen!”  

“Calm down, Charlie.  It will be fine.  Yes, I understand, I will be more cautious in the future.  I just want to know if you’re going to teach me things or something,”  she replied.  

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.  Certainly not in Paris, it is too chaotic,” he said.  A moment of silence occurred after Darcy had nodded.  “Uh…are you going to tell Tara?” he asked.  She simply shrugged in reply. 

“Think long and hard about that.  I mean…it could change a lot.  She doesn’t seem too freaked out about things in general, but there’s some separation between me & Nick and her, but now with you, that separation would be gone completely.  Just…think it over,” he said.  Before they could get further into the conversation, the elevator had reached the fourth floor, dinging, the door opening.  It was now 8 PM.  

“See you in an hour, Charlie,” Darcy said, waving gleefully at him.  She clearly still felt the adrenaline for successfully magically acquiring the vodka.  Charlie just nodded and waved back. 

He had some legitimate concerns.  He liked Darcy a lot.  They were friends.  He worried that she did not take this seriously, but then again, how could she?  She had not witnessed the shadows at Truham.  She had not seen them expelled by Nick.  She had not fought against the Paterumbra, nor realized firsthand what it had been doing to others.  While she had witnessed the reanimated dead, she did not have a deep grasp as to what could be going on behind the scenes.  She was like a loose cannon with a potentially chaotic power to just make anything she wanted appear.  That was cool, yet concerning.  He needed to talk to Nick.  He headed back into the room, to find Isaac and Nick talking casually, with no Tao in sight.  Quite curious. 

“Uh, Isaac…do you mind if I talk to Nick, alone?  I swear we’re not just going to make out, although I can’t say we won’t make out, but I just need to talk to him about some private things,” he said, almost desperately.  

“Mmm okay, that’s an odd request, but…yeah, I’ll just head down to Tara’s early, perhaps help them set up snacks or something,” he said, grabbing a book before heading out.  Nick looked utterly confused and adorable.  

“What’s up?” he asked, approaching Charlie gently, almost to pull him into a hug.  

Charlie, not wanting to confuse Nick, quickly blurted out, “Darcy is magical!”

“Wait, what?” Nick looked surprised at first, until he remembered the evening prior at the vending machine alcove.  “How did this come up?  How do you know?  Please explain.”  His voice sounded worried, verging on utter panic. 

“She told me about some weird occurrences she had over the past few months.  This was all before the vending machine incident,” Charlie replied.  “And then tonight, on our walk, she flat out showed me.”  

“Showed you what?”  Nick was waiting, awestruck by the revelation.  

“She…well I don’t know the terminology here, but…she quite literally made a bottle of vodka appear in her hands.  Summoning?  Manifesting?  I don’t know what to even say, but she went into the convenience store with me, simply looked at what she wanted while I was buying snacks, and then on the literal walkway made it appear,” Charlie said, his tone a mixture of concern and uncertainty.  

Nick sat down on the bed, completely dumbfounded, his mouth open in shock.  Charlie had shared his suspicions around the vending machine the prior night, but even that was purely speculation. To see it actually happen, shook him.  Charlie sat down next to him on the bed.   Seeing it was one thing, verbalizing it to another person was an entirely different feeling, too. Incredibly overwhelming, like a second wave of shock.   They both looked at each other, each in a bit of a state.  Nick put his hand on Charlie’s intertwining their fingers.   A few minutes passed in silence before either could say anything. 

“I…well, I know that we will figure this out, together.  Because we’re us, and that’s what we do,” Nick said, smiling faintly.  Charlie leaned in, putting his head on Nick’s shoulder.  That much was true.  They were them.  It was still relatively new, their relationship, but it had been so tested on so many levels already that he could not even debate such a thing.  Suddenly, Nick looked at his phone.  

“Gosh there’s like…15 minutes to get ready for the party,”  he said.  

“Just enough time to fix my curls,” Charlie said, sighing contentedly.  He knew Nick would lose all focus watching him toy with his hair. It was one of Nick’s weaknesses.  Charlie stood up and headed to the mirror to do just that.  Again, he was not wrong.  Within minutes, Nick was standing behind him, poking at his cheeks with both index fingers, lightly. 

“Excuse me…but those are my dimples,” he said sweetly.  Charlie giggled, shutting the wardrobe door, done with the mirror.  Nick suddenly hugged him from behind, nestling his head on Charlie’s shoulder.  It had been a long day.

“Sorry, I’m recharging,” he said, quietly.  

Charlie, feeling overwhelmed with joy and, quite frankly, love turned to face him, his face pink with blush.  “We could…um…stay here for a bit longer,” he suggested slyly to Nick.  

Nick, emboldened by Charlie’s sudden turn of sexy gumption, returned a smoldering look. “Oh.  Why’s that?” he asked coyly.  

Charlie did not verbalize an answer, pressing his lips into Nick’s forcefully, almost catching Nick off guard.  Nick certainly returned the favor, and then some, introducing some tongue into the equation, which naturally escalated things.  The French had a word for this – la volupté – rich and intense pleasure.  It certainly burned within Charlie at that moment, almost reaching new heights, a fever pitch, when suddenly Nick scooped Charlie and plopped him down on the ground.  

“Nick!! What’re you doing?  Heyyyy!” he yelled.  

“C’mon. We said we were going to Tara’s party.  We can’t be too late.  That would be sus ,” he said, grinning devilishly.  He was definitely messing Charlie around a bit.  

“Ugh, I hate you.  I can’t believe you would tease me like that,” Charlie replied, standing up.  

“Teasing you can be so fun though.  And nah…you definitely like me, Charles Francis Spring,” Nick said, grinning widely, blushing.   Charlie sighed, his face blushing red, answering for him.  He certainly loved him. 

Chapter Text

They stumbled into Room 417 about 5 minutes late, which was apparently unusual, as there appeared to be a full assemblage of people already there.  Nick could not count everyone successfully, but it felt like almost the whole group text had actually shown up.  No uninvited stragglers, either, as Nick noted that Harry Greene was nowhere to be seen, as were the more annoying Higgs girls that Imogen roomed with.   Thankfully Tara had wanted to host the party, because their room was massive in comparison to the boy’s room.  Truly. It even had a balcony, which had a lovely view of the narrow alleyway below; if one craned their neck enough, they could see the canal in the distance.  It really was the perfect hotel room for a birthday party.  Charlie went on to deposit the snacks and drinks on a nearby table, and Nick overheard him talking exactly about what Nick had been thinking, amazed at how large the room was, their luck at getting a balcony, etc.  Sometimes it really amazed him how much their brains could line up over some of the silliest things.  

They spent the first 15-20 minutes of the party chatting with friends and acquaintances, taking some pictures with various friends, snapping a glamorous selfie with both Tara and Darcy.  It was one of those very joyous occasions when Nick felt like he could forget about the world, both the banal and the magical.  He smiled at Charlie from across the room at one point, hoping that he, too, was having similar feelings, despite everything that had happened on the trip thus far, including Darcy’s magical revelation.  At some point, Charlie had gone off to the loo, only to quickly return, face pink, but laughing.  

“I thought you had to use the loo?” Nick asked.

Charlie started giggling into his shoulder.  “Tao and Elle were having a full on private snog session in there.  I got shouted out immediately,” he said, still in the midst of a laughing fit.  

Nick snorted, almost pulling the pop in his mouth up his nose.  “What nerve, monopolizing the loo during a party.  There’s only one here.  I think I should go speak to them!” he exclaimed, clearly joking.  

“I know you’re joking, but honestly I would almost pay to see them embarrassed some more,” he said, giggling.  

“Such a menace, Charlie Spring,” Nick replied.  Without even realizing it, Charlie had placed his hand on Nick’s intertwining their pinkies, nearing a very public hand-holding.  Nick blushed a little bit.  Just another little moment, hopefully communicating to their peers that they, indeed, were a romantic couple.  Someone would get the message, eventually.  

Charlie turned into Nick, whispering into his ear breathily, “We can wait for them to be done in there, you know?  Perhaps we should take up residence on the balcony?  It is a bit more private.”

Nick turned crimson.  He was pretty sure that several of the classmates around him noticed that color change, because a few of them were giving the pair eyes.  Nick glanced at them, gently.  There were some questioning eyes, some curious eyes, and some gleeful eyes, as if they had just figured out something magnificent.  He did not get much more of a chance to ponder, because Charlie had gotten up off the bed where they were sitting, grabbed Nick’s hand, and pulled him toward the balcony.  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see two girls whisper to each other about what had just happened.  Stores and restaurants had soft openings before their grand openings.  This party was turning out to be his soft coming-out, and their soft-launch as a public couple.  He wondered if Charlie was as aware of how the night was transpiring as he was.  Charlie was usually pretty observant, and for all he knew, Charlie had purposefully set up some of those moments, knowing that if Nick reciprocated, it would help the overall goal of gently coming out to people in a natural way, without grandeur or production backing.  The way they had discussed how they would want coming out to go.   

They both sat down on the cool stone balcony and huddled up next to one another, Nick’s left leg and Charlie’s right leg touching gently.  The night air was a bit chilly, despite the summer heat earlier in the day.  The moon was fully illuminated, and beautiful, casting bright light over the city.  It was truly and properly a romantic setting.  If they had not been so publicly exposed, with 30 plus peers feet away, they probably would have snogged themselves senseless given the environment.  Nick kept stealing furtive glances of his boyfriend’s slender body and thinking about how gorgeous he was, from curly dark locks, to blue eyes, to slender legs, and adorable Converse-wearing feet.  It was when he had glanced at Charlie’s neck line, leading to his clavicles, that he noticed a faint glow coming from under his hoodie.  

“Char…I think your pendant is glowing,” Nick said faintly, which had clearly caught him off guard.  

“Oh? Um…well that’s unusual,” he said, pulling it out from under his shirt and the hoodie, letting it bathe in the moonlight.  “I wonder if it means anything?  I mean, I did first use it under moonlight, but I never really noticed it doing this with me just being outside.”  

“Maybe it’s just recharging,” Nick said, leaning his head onto Charlie’s shoulder, like he had done in their room.  Charlie just chuckled a bit.  

“Maybe,” he replied.  A moment passed, where they just sat silently, watching the pendant glow, its intensity eventually tapering off, to the point that anyone who saw it would just think it was reflecting the moonlight and not autonomously glowing.  Nick leaned into Charlie a bit more. 

“Uh, Char…I feel like we have never really gotten a chance to talk a ton about this, but, I was wondering…what did you think when you first walked into form back in January?” 

Charlie spluttered a little bit.  “That’s…an unexpected question,” he replied, blushing furiously. 

Nick, picking up on his embarrassment, replied, “Uh, so the answer is going to be sappy beyond belief.”

“Shut up!” Charlie said, giggling, poking him in the stomach.  “If you must know…it was a mixture of absolute terror and elation.”  

Nick smirked a bit.  “Oh yeah, why’s that?  Was it my strong rugby arms?” he joked, laughing. 

“Actually, it was your hair, eyes, and freckles, honestly,” he said, dreamily.  “The arm obsession came much later.”  

Nick stuttered, blushing profusely.  “My hair, eyes, and freckles?  Really?”  he asked.  

Charlie nodded his head adamantly, smiling.  “Absolutely, Nicholas.  Your eyes are like warm honey.  If Mr. Lange hadn’t been talking to me, I’m pretty sure I would have stood there looking at them for longer than socially acceptable.  One could get truly lost in them.”  

Nick swallowed hard, the heat rising in his body.  He was on edge, almost completely ready to jump Charlie then and there.  He drew a deep breath in, steadying himself, pulling himself back from the precipice.  

“And my hair and freckles?”  he asked innocently, moving his hand up to Charlie’s leg. 

Charlie nodded.  Nick noticed that he, too, had gulped a bit, which gave Nick a sense of pleasure.  Two could definitely play that game.   

“Well…your hair makes me think of gingerbread and carrot cake, some of my favorite desserts. And your freckles are so endearingly cute, sometimes I just stare at them, thinking I can find constellations, real and imagined,” he said, quietly, glancing at Nick, his eyes laden with hunger.  

“Why is this the first time you’ve told me your favorite desserts?  I’m going to have to bake those when we get home,” he replied, earnestly.  

Charlie giggled.  “I’m sorry, it just never came up in passing.  We’ve been…busy,” he replied.  

Nick sighed.  “I suppose we have…between magic and snogging,” he said as he glanced over at Charlie.  “Speaking of which.”  He pulled Charlie’s head in and gave him a deep kiss, tongue included.  Fuck it if someone saw.  Almost prophetically, Darcy poked her head out the door.

“Damn, I just have the worst streak of homophobic luck, interrupting you two.  Day 1, the vending machine, and now,” she said.  They both laughed heartily as she sat down next to them.  “But this disruption is worth it.  It’s alcohol time.”  She took out the infamous bottle of vodka.  

“I’ve not had alcohol before, Darcy.  Is it gross?”  Charlie asked, curiously. 

“Yep.  100%.  I’m sure there’s probably some good brands, but this is pretty much swill,” she said gleefully, completely unbothered by the bottom shelf quality.  She opened the bottle for them. 

“Oh god, that smells like rubbing alcohol,” Nick said, holding his nose.  

“You’re not supposed to sniff it, silly. Just pour some in your drink,” she replied, chuckling.  

“I’ll try some!” Charlie said, giggling a bit. “I just really want to see if it is truly that repulsive.”  

Darcy poured a liberal amount into his cup of lemonade, so much so that it reminded him of an ancient Vine clip he had seen on Tumblr.  Instantaneously “2 shots of vodka” Sandra Lee’s voice rang in his mind, and he laughed.   “Dang, Darcy.  That’s excessive,” he said.  She just shrugged and slinked back inside.  

“I feel like such a rebel right now.  My parents never let me have alcohol,” Charlie whispered.

“I mean, my mom doesn’t either, except for a beer at Christmas.  I can’t imagine the two are alike at all,” Nick replied.  

Charlie gingerly lifted the cup up to his lips, taking a sip.  His face automatically contorted, his eyes scrunching together in disgust.  “Oh god, that’s disgusting!” he cried out, barely swallowing down the sip he had taken.  “Why would anyone pay for that?”   Nick just laughed loudly, taking the cup from Charlie. 

“I want to try!” he said, taking a modest swig from the cup.  Oh god, he wasn’t joking .  Nick could feel the burn of the vodka as the swig of the lemonade-vodka concoction ran down his throat.  Nick similarly scrunched his face up, grimacing at the awful taste and aftertaste.  

“God, it tastes like metal.  Foul!” he said.  Charlie laughed in response.  

“Maybe it grows on you, like red wine?  That’s what my mom would say, at least,” Charlie said, still laughing.   Both of them ultimately decided to dump it.  They certainly did not need to be drunk to enjoy such a lovely, romantic evening.  They heard some boos from inside the hotel room, so they decided to head inside and investigate.  

Tara was facing away from the door, attempting to shut it.  “No homophobes at my party!  Leave!” she shouted at someone, currently unseen.  Darcy backed her up by repeating her sentiment, a bit more vulgarly.  

Nick froze up.  They were talking to Harry.  Harry Greene was attempting to get into the party, albeit almost an hour late.  He could hear him groaning about want to “just talk to Nick and Charlie,” so the two of them pushed through the crowd, indicating to Tara and Darcy that they would handle things.  

“What do you want, Harry?” Nick asked, grumpily.

“Oh for fucks sake, calm down,” he replied, casually.  Natural Harry douche-tone.   “Can we just talk?”

Nick wasn’t having any of that.  He simply said, “No,” and went to shut the door, but Harry got ahead of him and prevented it from shutting completely.  

“Wait!” he yelled.  “I just want to clear the air after the cinema.  What I said wasn’t cool,” Harry said, completely in the absence of any sort of contrition.  

“Char, we don’t have to listen to this,” Nick said.  Harry’s brow piqued in interest at that nickname.  There was latent homophobia again.  Nick had momentarily felt bad for Harry after what had happened with the Paterumbra a few months ago, but the more he understood, the more he realized that the Paterumbera’s attraction to Harry only had to do with how much of a miserable knob he was.  Half-hearted apologies really only reinforced that fact.  

“I know it was some homophobic shit.  My family is so homophobic.  I know better now, and I won’t say shit,” he replied.  Suddenly, Charlie stepped forward. 

“What do you want from us?  Forgiveness?  Well done.  You said homophobic shit not just at the cinema, but for over a year, but it is all okay because you’re sorry?  I’m glad you realized the error of your ways, how much of a shitty person you have been, but I’m under no obligation whatsoever to forgive you, or anyone who made me feel shitty all last year,” Charlie said assertively.   Both Nick and Harry looked absolutely stunned at him.  Charlie did not stop there. 

“You don’t get to try to force me to accept a public apology, just to persuade people to think you’re magically somehow less of a knob.   One sorry wouldn’t even begin to cover all of the shit you said and did, anyway.  So congratulations on that substantial and difficult realization that gay people actually do have feelings.  Have a nice life,” he said, with gracious, yet sarcastic finality, firmly shutting the door shut in Harry’s face.  If that was not enough to convince Harry Greene that there was at least one party he was not welcome at, then no one knew what would be.  

Cheers erupted behind Charlie, as everyone raucously celebrated someone actually calling Harry Greene on his bell-ended bullshit.  

Nick checked in with Charlie quickly, before the party continued.  “You okay?”  

Charlie nodded.  “It actually felt great saying all of that.  Nick just squeezed his hand, blushing, glancing at Charlie with a gentle sweet gaze. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Nelson,” Charlie said giggling. 

“Like what?” Nick asked, feigning ignorance. 

“Like you’re about to be cheesy as fuck, Nicholas,” Charlie replied immediately, which was immediately countered by Nick saying, “And what if I am?”

Before they could go further, a loud “Ahem” was heard from nearby.  Darcy had snuck up on them, as they were clearly engrossed in this flirtatious moment.  Almost the entire room was staring at them in the doorway, analyzing their interactions. 

“We’re going to play truth or dare, want to join us?” she said, a hiccup leaving her mouth toward the end of the sentence.  Darcy had definitely drunk most of that vodka on her own.  Both of them nodded at her, joining the group in forming a circle, a bottle of water in the middle.  

The first spin landed on Tara, who elected for a dare.  Darcy thought she had handed her a particularly filthy one, asking her to remove a sock, using only her mouth.  Tara found it particularly tame, given how chaotic Darcy could be, which miffed Darcy a bit to hear.  She would be plotting and planning the next time the bottle was hers to spin.  Nick thought for a minute that she could possibly even manifest it to point on Tara again.  What a scenario.  Most of the truth or dare game continued to be tame, or relatively unimaginative, until someone spun and landed on Tao, who elected for truth out of fear of what dare could be thought up for him.  

“Have you kissed someone in this room?” they asked.  Tao blushed scarlet, as did Elle, who was sitting right next to him.  Awks.  

“Y-y-yes,” he stuttered out.  The circle erupted with questions, begging him to supply the mystery recipient of his kisses, which he point-blank refused.  That wasn’t the question after all, he noted.  

Next up, a Higgs girl spun, landing on Charlie.  Naturally, Charlie chose dare. Nick was not prepared for what happened next.  The girl dared Charlie to kiss another boy in the circle, James, which immediately led to a firestorm of jealousy in Nick. His breathing quickened a bit, and he got incredibly flushed.  To his credit, Charlie looked rather surprised and unhappy with the dare itself. People on the other side of the circle pushed James toward Charlie, urging them on, saying that James was a good kisser.  Nick was about to lose it, when Charlie firmly turned away and said that he did not want to.  The girl from Higgs huffed, declaring that it was fine, but Charlie would still have to do a truth instead.  Nick had realized that she was one of the girls who had whispered with her friend, watching them head out to the balcony.  She clearly had been plotting this moment since Darcy had announced earlier that they would be playing at some point. 

“Who gave you that love bite?” she asked, her fake innocence off the charts. Immediately, Tao, Elle, and Tara all dissented to such a question, which led to her following up with, “Someone on the trip?”  

The air in the room intensified.  People were yelling, saying it was inconsiderate, that it could out someone if he answered, while others were asking what the point of such a game would be if people could refuse to answer, and swearing that no one would say a word to anyone, that what happened in Paris, stayed in Paris.  

Nick, frustrated by this unraveling around him, all of this talk ABOUT HIM, around him, suddenly piped up, loudly enough to cut through the noise.  “I know who it is.”  He turned to Charlie, who nodded his approval, reaching over to squeeze his hand in support. 

“It was me.  We’re dating,” he said simply.  Naturally people had a million comments and questions, ranging from “OMG WE KNEW IT” to “wait, are you gay?” which led to a few annoyed looks and several corrections about the fact that Nick was indeed bisexual, not gay.  Teach them early about the awfulness of bi-erasure, Nick thought. Finally, the question that they were ultimately waiting for arose.  

“Do you want us to keep it a secret?”  a Truham student asked.  

Nick shook his head.  “We’re okay with being out.  Not that we’ve been actively hiding it, to be honest though.  Literally captioned an Insta post with red love hearts,”  he said. 

He heard Imogen’s laugh about that over the squeals of a few girls who had immediately gotten their phones out to check his Instagram.  He glanced over at Charlie to check in with him, wanting to make sure that he was not feeling too overwhelmed with these new social developments around them.  Charlie did not look quite peaceful, honestly.  His eyes appeared clamped shut, rather tightly.  Nick prodded him.  

“Char…are you okay?” he asked, unable to hide the concern in his voice. 

“Nick…something’s not…” Charlie started to reply.  

The lights to the room all suddenly flickered, as if the power was giving out.  Nick swallowed hard, feeling a sudden chill enter the room, much colder than the evening air from the balcony.  The lights flickered again suddenly, leaving darkness for a bit longer.  Some of the girls gasped a bit, freaked out by what was happening.  A few of the boys kept looking at the balcony with concern, trying to figure out why a clear, cool night would result in electric failures.  Nick turned and looked back at the door, gasping.  Swirls of dark, indigo gas were entering from under it.  

“Char, get to the balcony now!” he whispered urgently.  

They pulled themselves up, and out of the circle, a few people following behind them, seemingly not noticing the gas.  The lights flickered for a third time, cutting out completely, just as they were approaching the balcony.  A few people screamed.  The lights in the hallway had also flickered out, it seemed.  Nick glanced back, and could see more of the gas swirling into the room.  People started coughing, not realizing the dark gas swirling through a fairly dark room.  The few people who had made it to the balcony with them, had turned back upon hearing the coughing to check on what was happening in the room. Charlie went to do so, but Nick pulled him back.  

“No, let’s hide out of sight.  It…it’s…the necromancer,”  Nick said with certainty.  

He grabbed Charlie, pulling him to the area of the balcony beyond the door, hoping that it would be hidden enough that the necromancer would not notice them.  As they ducked down, they heard the door to the room barge open rather loudly, more screaming and some confused shouting coming from the room.  The gas had begun seeping out the open balcony door, wafting into the night.  Some cold cackling came from the room, followed by more screaming.  A sound of a struggle, and some foreign language that Nick did not recognize at all, accompanied by a flash of purple-blue light.  More screams and coughing.  Nick held Charlie tightly to him, eyes focused on the door of the balcony, waiting and ready to blast the Necromancer with fae-fire should they step outside.  After a minute or two, they both heard the door slam, the gas seeping out of the door decreasing in quantity.  They waited another minute, and then the lights slowly flickered back on.  Charlie got out from under Nick’s tight hold, rushing into the room.  Nick followed after him, hurriedly.  Their peers were strewn about the room, dazed.  Some of them looked as if they had passed out.  

“Char, check their pulses,” he said, quickly.  He went around and checked a few of his classmates that were unconscious.  Thankfully the ones he had checked still had a pulse, and whatever that gas was, had just made them faint.  He glanced around the room, counting people, checking for breathing, when he noticed something.  Someone was definitely missing, who had been there during Truth or Dare, someone who definitely would not have been able to simply walk out in their state.  Darcy. 

“Charlie.  Char.” Nick said, panicking.  Charlie had not said anything yet, still checking a few pulses.  “Char!”  Nick said again, more panic in his voice.  

“What Nick?  What’s happened?”  he asked, almost exasperated, his focus being broken.  

“Darcy…she’s missing.  She’s…been taken?”  he said, his voice falling flat.  Charlie gasped.  

Just as they had made the connections, Isaac and Tara had started to stir out of their semi-conscious states, into a more aware state.   Charlie ran over to Isaac.  

“Isaac, can you hear me?  Like, can you perceive clearly everything I am saying?  What’s my middle name?”  Charlie asked.  

Isaac mumbled back “Francis.”  

“Okay, Isaac, listen carefully.  We need you to run interference with the teachers.  Grade A pamplemousse emergency,” he said to Isaac, as Nick helped Tara get up.  

“Where is Darcy,” she asked, hazily.  

“We’re not sure, Tara.  But Charlie and I are going to find her.  Can you help Isaac?  Get everyone sorted.  Make excuses about where we are.  Invent some story, but don’t let on to the teachers.  We can’t let them call the police or anything,” Nick said, gasping for air.  

Tara had started crying, worried about what was happening.  Nick gave her a big hug, trying to reassure her.  Charlie had checked on a few of their classmates, just to make sure they were alive.  Things were as good as they possibly could be, after getting attacked by death magic.  Before any more of their classmates could fully come to, Charlie waved Nick on toward the door to the room, flashing their room card key.  Nick instantly understood, running over, taking off with him down the hall to the room. The teachers must have been particularly preoccupied, as they had not yet peaked out into the hall, or come out to investigate.  Swiping the door key, Charlie ran into the room, digging through his luggage until he pulled out the old key from the pile of clothes he had hidden it in.  He threw a pair of shorts at Nick for him to change into, and pulled on one of his own.  Pajamas would not cut it for this.  They changed quickly, put shoes on, and then cut out of the room, heading straight for the elevators. 

Once inside, Nick turned to Charlie and said, “I take it we’re going to Montmartre tonight, to visit one resplendent Cathedral of the Sacred Heart?”

Charlie, toying with the key in his hand, nodded.  “It’s the only lead I have, but I can’t help but feel that it is 100% correct,” he replied, quietly.  

Nick stood there, nervous, and in silence.  He wanted nothing more than to tell Charlie that he loved him. That no matter what happened, he loved him so much, and would love him for eternity.  It felt entirely pessimistic to make such an admission now, like one of them would die or something.  Nick stopped and thought about that.  They really were about to walk into an incredibly dangerous situation, armed with several months of magical experience, against an individual nefarious enough to attack a room full of teenagers and kidnap one of them.  He swallowed hard, thinking about that just as the elevator reached the lobby, letting out a loud ding.  He felt almost rooted in the spot, but Charlie must have felt differently, as the boy practically charged out of the elevator, leaving Nick no choice but to follow valiantly, just barely catching up as they pushed open the door to exit the building. 

At the same time, two very different males voices called out.

“Nicholas?”  “Charlie?” 

He and Charlie stopped abruptly, stunned.  To their right, Stéphane Nelson stood, both of his hands nestled in the pockets of the light jacket he was wearing.  To their left, Julio Spring stood, his arms crossed tensely, clearly irritated and disappointed that the two of them were sneaking out at 10:00 PM.  

“Care to clue us in about where you’re going and what’s going on?” Julio Spring asked, quite concerned about the situation.  

Charlie, who had not said anything since the elevator, responded quickly, “We’re off to rescue our friend, who was most definitely kidnapped by a necromancer.”  

Nick, who had noticed a batch of e-scooters down the block, motioned over to them.  “Do either of you fancy a nighttime scooter ride to the Sacre Cœur?” he asked both of the adults, his tone a mixture of absolute seriousness and whimsy.  

They both looked at him like he was absurd.  Stéphane just shrugged his shoulders, and started heading over to secure a scooter for himself.  Nick and Charlie both jogged over to meet him, with Julio following behind reluctantly, sighing to himself about the situation they had all found themselves in.  While they were paying for the rental on apps, Stéphane and Julio exchanged introductions.  Nick firmly hoped that Mr. Spring would not accidentally out him to his father, but given the main problem of the evening, he figured such a thing would not come up.  Mr. Spring turned to his son, giving him a frustrated look.  

“Listen, dad,” Charlie said in response to the look,  “I did tell you that I was more worried about trouble finding me, not about me going after trouble.” 

Mr. Spring just groaned, and then started following the resident Parisian, Mr. Nelson, who had just taken off on his scooter.  Charlie squeezed his arms around Nick’s waist, and whispered in his ear, “I’m going to have to stop calling you rugby lad in favor of scooter lad.”  

Nick just chuckled, forcefully accelerating, taking off after their fathers.  He did not care what Charlie called him, as long as they were together.  Looking ahead to his father, under the light of the street lamps, the dread he had carried earlier in the elevator felt extinguished, replaced with a righteous sort of anger.  “Let’s go kick some necromancer ass,” he thought to himself, as they zoomed along the quiet alleyways and back roads heading to Montmartre. 

Chapter Text

Charlie could not say if he was anxious or nervous with the gratuitous amounts of adrenaline rushing through his body as their scooters raced through the night to the Sacre Cœur, up the winding streets and hills of Montmartre.  He had many questions right now - How was it that his father and Mr. Nelson showed up just as the worst thing imaginable had happened?  How did the necromancer find them?  What did the necromancer want with Darcy?   Were they even going to be able to find her?  Was it too late?  Charlie grimaced at the last two thoughts, swallowing hard, and gripping Nick a little bit tighter as he navigated the streets of Paris.  They were nearing their destination, as the lights revealed the approach to the famed cathedral.  They would have to go on foot up the stairs.  Charlie had checked before they left, and somehow they managed to get there before the public viewing hours of the cathedral had ended.  They raced up the stairs, even the adults, pulling the door open as if they were to find treasure inside when they opened it.  Unfortunately, they just found a church official minding the grounds placidly, unaware of potential events going on below their feet.  Charlie turned to the group.

“The staircase I saw the necromancer use is in the back corner there.  What do we do about the people here?” he asked, turning to his father. 

“Leave that to me.  Let’s just start heading over to the stairs,” he said.  Charlie nodded.  

They walked quickly toward the back corner of the church.  The attendant there seemed completely unaware of them at all, until they reached the stairwell that they needed to go down.  Suddenly, they dropped the broom they were using, the clatter resounding through the building, and starting shuffling toward them at a moderate pace, hobbled by something unseen.  That’s when Charlie first noticed the smell, something chemical in nature, foul and sharp with sickly sweet undertones that made the chemical scent even more acridly foul.  Nick had squeezed his nose shut, so he must not be the only one smelling it.  

Stéphane Nelson, who had been relatively quiet, whispered, “Embalming fluid.  It appears our nighttime attendant is recently deceased.” 

Julio Spring nodded, “Definitely that.  If we deal with him, I think it will alert our target to our presence.  They have some weird connection to their thralls, if I remember correctly,” he said, thinking of alternatives.  

“Something to add to the Grimoire,” Stéphane mumbled.  “Perhaps we restrain it? It seems rather encumbered,” he noted.  Mr. Spring nodded in agreement.  

“Charlie, you and Nick go see if the key actually works while Mr. Nelson and I take care of this,” Julio said. 

Both he and Nick looked at each other, and gulped a bit, nodding to him.  They took off down the stairs carefully, light from their phone illuminating the semi-darkness.  Fumbling with the key, they examined the door.  The locking mechanism definitely looked old, and in the same style as the key itself.  Nick fumbled with the door handle first to check that it was actually locked.  Charlie cautiously inserted the key into the mechanism.  It felt like it would stick-fast, but someone at the cathedral had clearly been taking care of the various doors there, so after some initial struggle, he was finally able to turn it, clicking the lock open.  Both he and Nick sighed in relief, which felt ridiculous, seeing as how Charlie could always force it open using magic.  His father’s voice rang through his head again.  Sometimes the best solutions to problems are non magical ones, Charlie .    Above them they heard some grunts, some crisp popping noises, assumed to be some sort of magic, a couple eerie wails, assumed to be the reanimated dead, and then a dull thud. No soon after the thud, were Mr. Spring and Mr. Nelson running down the stairs.  

“Door open?” they asked.  Nick and Charlie both nodded.  “Okay, let’s proceed with caution,” Mr. Spring said.  

Initially, they realized that directly under the main chapel was the crypt, which was a dead end.  There were no doors leading further underground or anything like that.  They all looked around, confused, shining lights into the room.  No undead were present, no necromancer, no Darcy.  Had they gotten the importance of the key completely wrong?  Charlie let out a frustrated sigh, turning to his father, who was frowning a bit.  

“This can’t be a dead end,” Charlie groaned.  His dad shook his head, in agreement.  

“I think the fact that there was a reanimated dead body upstairs is pretty good evidence that we’re in the correct place,” he said.  “Perhaps we need to look around a bit?” 

 Everyone nodded and spread out a bit, looking around the crypt for any obvious signs of further passage.  Charlie wished Isaac was there.  Perhaps his knowledge could point them in the right direction.  Nick, who had been searching one side of the crypt, had given up and walked over to Charlie, placing his hand on Charlie’s shoulder softly.  

“How are you doing, Char?” he whispered quietly.  Charlie just shrugged his shoulders.  

“As good as I can be in such a situation,” he replied evenly, trying to mask fear and anxiety that was stirring.  

Nick leaned in a bit, almost as if he was going to kiss Charlie’s neck, when he suddenly stopped.  “Uh…Char.  The pendant. I can see it glowing again,” he said.  

Charlie fumbled the pendant out from under his shirt and Nick’s hoodie.  Indeed it was glowing. He suddenly heard a voice in his head.  Rosa .  The pendant will help you find the answers you seek .  A slim ray of light left the pendant, striking a brick on the wall in front of them that was about waist-height up the wall, illuminating on it some symbology that Charlie had previously missed.  Nick called over both of the adults, as Charlie moved closer to examine it.  The symbols were the phases of the moon, but included more of the intermediate phases than the pendant included.  

“Dad…why are there Caster symbols carved into the crypt of a cathedral?” he asked curiously. 

“Your guess is as good as mine, Charlie,” he said, examining them.  “I wonder, though…”

“ Aperī ,” he whispered.

They stepped back in surprise, the brick pushing back, sliding out of the way, revealing a handle.  How curious. Mr. Spring pulled the handle, pushing a false-door open, opening to a set of stone stairs.  Cautiously walking down the steps, phones illuminating the passageway before them, they turned a corner into a short corridor that opened into a larger room.   None of them were prepared for how cavernous it would be under the cathedral.  Stéphane noted that even he was surprised, as he had never heard about such vaults underneath the cathedral, even as a French citizen.  It had vaguely reminded Charlie of the Mines of Moria; he and Nick had watched the Fellowship of the Ring a few weeks prior, so the memory was still quite fresh.  The thought alone made him shiver a bit.  Hopefully there were not hordes of undead here, like the hordes of orcs in Moria. No. No.  That was not possible, given the limitations of necromancy described by the Book.  At the end of the hall, more passageways existed, presumably leading to antechambers.  Light filtered from one of the hallways, the only one that had any indication of someone being present.  Suddenly, Charlie heard the music. 

A sullen, slow sounding dirge reverberated from the lit antechamber.  Charlie tugged on Mr. Nelson’s coat sleeve.  

“Mr. Nelson…your dream.  These are the sounds that I heard when I received your dream as a vision,”  Charlie whispered.  

Mr. Nelson turned to the group, frowning.  “We must be incredibly close then.  I do wonder though, given how things are down here…maybe these tunnels are much more extensive than we realize?” 

Mr. Spring nodded.  “At this point, we must stick together.  We have no idea what could lurk down here.”  

“Perhaps we shouldn’t rely on phones for light?” Nick added, pointing to some unlit torches hanging from the walls on the other side of the chamber.  

“Always with the good ideas, Nicholas,” Charlie teased.  “Plus, fire is supposed to be effective against the reanimated dead.”  

Nick went off to fetch two of them, brushing away cobwebs from the shafts of the torches.  He tossed one to Charlie, who caught it awkwardly.  Not even rugby had prepared him for that.  Thankfully they were relatively lightweight.  

“Uh, a lighter?” Nick asked his father.  Charlie remembered saying that his dad had been a regular smoker years ago.  

“Oh, Nicholas.  I quit smoking over a year ago.  I forgot to tell you and your mother,” Stéphane replied.  

Oh, that was awkward.  Of all times to bring in the constant theme of neglectful communication between father and son, now certainly was not it.  Mr. Spring stepped in to break the silence.  

“Let me just do it,” he said, muttering.  Both of the Nelsons looked quite confused, but Charlie felt rather alarmed, his face most definitely showing it.  “Don’t worry, Charlie,  I’ve been practicing,” Julio said to his son, picking up on the fearful tension on his face.  

Nick and Charlie slowly moved their torches over to Mr. Spring, who took a deep breath in, concentrating.  His face was screwed up in such intense concentration, Charlie thought his dad might break a capillary or two in his cheeks.  He raised his hands over the torches, took another deep breath in, and then suddenly…sparks.  Ignition. Combustion.  The torch material quickly caught fire, without any difficulty, lighting up brightly the surrounding area.  

“Cool,” Nick said, eyes wide and blinking.  His dad laughed a bit at Nick’s surprise.  

“Nicholas.  Magic tends to run in families, you know that, right?”  Stéphane said, chuckling a bit at his son’s shock.  

“Well thanks for letting me know, dad.  We’ll have to talk all about that later. In a lot of detail,” Nick said, his jaw clenching in frustration.  Charlie put a hand on his shoulder, offering comfort to him, trying to disarm the situation a bit.  He could tell that Nick’s struggle with his father was really starting to manifest itself in this stressful situation.  

“Let’s just go, please,” Charlie said, annoyed by the stalling.  Both adults noticed that, and nodded.  

They moved into the tunnel connecting the main chamber to the antechamber, the dim light pouring in from the other room, supplemented by the light of the torches.  The tunnel stretched for an unknown distance, no door or opening in immediate sight.  The air below was slowly getting cooler as they moved forward, beyond a normal cellar temperature.  Charlie had been glancing around at the walls, checking for any sort of hidden symbols or doors that they might miss as they ventured forth, but nothing stuck out to him.  Compared to the hunt for the Paterumbra, this search party was torturous in comparison.  Both of the adults had been walking a few steps ahead of Nick and Charlie, Mr. Nelson carrying one of the torches.  Ahead, the tunnel became a bit irregular, as if a large rock formation had been left intact, the tunnel built around it. Suddenly,  the adults halted their progress, Mr. Nelson held out his free hand, cautioning the younger boys to stop.  

“I smell it, too, Stéphane,” Julio Spring said, grimacing a bit.  

Charlie looked over at Nick, confused for a second before he understood what his dad was referencing.  There it was, the signature scent of death wafting through the air.  Decay, rot, pestilence, whichever you prefer.  It stunk.  A shrill scream, not too far in the distance, pierced through the air abruptly, disrupting their focus on the stench. 

“Darcy!”  Charlie shouted, starting to run forward without a second thought, his attention focused on nothing but saving his friend. 

“No, Char!”  Nick yelled, darting after him.  

Neither of them noticed the tremendous rock formation, slowly moving away from the wall. But rather than being a rock slide, it was a hulking corpse that had launched itself forward, blocking their pathway.  Charlie caught himself before running into it, backing up a few steps, waving the torch in front of him.  The corpse monstrosity screeched in response to the fire.  Monstrosity was really the best descriptor for it.  It was more than one body, but rather appeared to be a patchwork of several different donor bodies, both skin, flesh, fatty and muscular tissues, all strung together.  While not quite a giant, it looked to be just under 7 feet tall, its trunk and thighs thick, its arms bulging.  A veritable Corpse-Hulk, which was now stumbling toward him and Nick.  It might be physically impressive, but the sloppy movements were hindering it somewhat, although not enough to potentially save either Nick or Charlie from interacting unfavorably with it.  Before they could even adequately react further, a ball of blueish-white light flew over Charlie’s shoulder, striking the morbid monster squarely in the chest, stopping it in its tracks long enough for Nick and Charlie to backtrack closer to their fathers.  The beast wailed a grotesque sound, gearing up to move in on them.  Mr. Nelson fired out another ball of fae-fire at it, striking its shoulder, causing it to convulse slightly, yet leaving it relatively unphased. 

“Nicholas, you can jump in at any moment now,” he said, chiding his son.  

This seemed to have snapped Nick out of his momentary status of being overwhelmed entirely by the situation.  Nick glanced at his father, and then at Charlie, smiling, holding up his left hand toward the corpse, firing off a bolt of fae-fire that struck the corpse in the other shoulder.  Nick clasped Charlie’s left hand with his right, drawing upon him as a source of energy to fuel his fae-fire, the contact between them, their union both physically and emotionally driving his power. His father fired off another burst of fae-fire, striking the beast in its gut, followed by another bolt from Nick that hit its chest.  They had beleaguered it enough that it was no longer attempting to push itself forward in the corridor, but it clearly had not been destroyed.  Charlie started to get anxious.  This conflict was wasting their time, blocking them from rescuing Darcy and dealing with the actual problem, the necromancer.  

Charlie turned to his father, asking almost tearfully, “Why isn’t it working?  It just seems to be slowing down.”  

His father nodded, unsure what to say.  “Let me try something, Charlie.  Just…please don’t worry.  I think this might be the only thing that helps,” he replied.  

Julio Spring cupped his hands together in front of him, drawing as deep of a breath as he could, despite the stench of death in the corridor.  He was focusing again, trying to find the head space to concentrate as much as possible, despite the alternating flashes and crackles of fae-fire being emitted.  Charlie alternated his glancing between Nick and Mr. Nelson’s attempts to hold off the monster and his father’s intense focusing.  He was starting to fear that the half-fae were feeling a bit depleted by their continued attacks.  It was taking Mr. Nelson a bit longer to summon his fae-fire.  Nick’s bolts were not as full-bodied as they initially started.  He turned back to see if anything had happened with his father, and just as he did, he saw sparks flying in between his cupped hands, crackling noises coming from them.  Julio started to move his hands apart a bit, the sparks jumping even more, and then suddenly as before, flames.  A small ball of fire erupted in between his palms, which he shaped like he was shaping a snowball for a snowball fight.  He continued to grow it for a few more seconds, to the point that it was the size of his head, if not a bit bigger.  

“Nick, Stéphane, move out of the way, please.  Dive to your right, Nick,” he said, straining with the difficulty of maintaining the flames.  

Charlie pulled Nick into him, staggering away from his father.  Nick must have finally caught onto what Mr. Spring was doing, as he stared like a deer in headlights, eyes wide at the scene before him.   When the way was clear, Mr. Spring launched the ball of fire like he was performing a throw-in during football, hitting the monster straight in its enormous chest.  It groaned deeply, the fire searing its flesh, releasing a rotting, acrid smell into the hallway.  The flames spread across its body, as if it had been set upon a funeral pyre.  

“It’s working, Julio.  I can see some magical energy leaving it,” Stéphane yelled, trying to make sure he was heard over the yowling that the beast was continuing to emit.  

He turned to Nick, nodding at him, and they both sent out one more ray of fae-fire at the beast.  This, combined with the burning flames, were enough to force out a huge cloud of dark purplish-blue gas that interacted with the fae-fire, crackling.  Nick, who had seen something similar in the Montmartre alleyway, fired off one more bolt of fae-fire at the gas, dissipating it quickly.  Suddenly, the beast fell on its knees, its chest slowly slumping forward onto the ground, still smoldering with flames, pieces of it starting to fall apart that had clearly been kept together by necromancy.  Everyone took a moment to catch their breath, despite the foul smell in the air.  Charlie stepped around the hulking corpse-pile in front of them, looking back at the rest of them.  

“Onward, then?” he said, nodding his head further down the corridor. 

Nick stepped over a smoldering arm, grabbing Charlie’s free hand, nodding.  The adults followed suit.  “Lead the way, Char,” Nick said.  

They sprinted maybe another 100 feet or so, when an open archway appeared before them, beckoning them into another modestly sized room.   Before they entered, Mr. Spring turned to them. 

“Listen…when we get in there, let me and Mr. Nelson focus on the necromancer.  You make sure you find your friend, make sure she’s okay.  Focus on healing her, if necessary.  Nick, be on the lookout for the dead, you’re going to be the only line of  defense for Charlie,” he said, almost like a coach directing the upcoming plays in a game.  

Charlie swallowed nervously, unable to respond beyond a nod to his father.  Nick also nodded his head in understanding, his hand reaching out to Charlie’s, looking for assurance and trying to give comfort.  He must have stopped caring completely as to what his father noticed or thought about it, because he was completely oblivious to Stéphane’s occasional analytic gazes.  They all seemed to stand in place for a moment, as if they were about to go skydiving or do some extreme sport that gave them pause to reconsider.  

“Well, I suppose we should head in,” Stéphane said, breaking the momentary silence.  

To call this room an antechamber would be a bit of a misnomer, as it was nearly equally as large as the main chamber they had first entered, with large stone columns rising to support an elegantly vaulted ceiling.  Torches lined the walls, but they were not lit with a normal fire, but rather a dark purple flame that let off a modest chill.  It was cold here, almost as if they had stepped foot into the morgue.  Charlie was instantly grateful that they still had torchlight left, as it would have been incredibly difficult to navigate the hall or see much beyond their immediate area.  About 20 feet into the room, Nick stopped, pointing over to a column.  Darcy was slumped against it, appearing to be barely conscious.  He and Nick ran over to her, checking her pulse.  It was quick, but not too fast.  She must have fainted under the conditions, which made sense. Charlie shook her gently, calling her name, trying to get her to come to.  Nick put his hand on her shoulder, hoping that more pressure would do the trick.  Between their efforts and the light and small warmth from the torch, she slowly came to. 

“Ch...Charlie? N…Nick?  Why are you here?”  she mumbled out, fatigued.  

“We’re rescuing you, silly,” Nick replied, wrapping his arms around her, attempting to pull her up to stand.  “You don’t hurt anywhere, do you?” he asked.

“I’m sore, but not in pain.  My head feels fuzzy,” she said meekly.  

“Must be the death magic gas,”  Charlie said, frowning.  Darcy swallowed, shaken by something.  

“What is it, Darcy?” Nick asked, keeping his arms around her, hoping that his touch would make her feel safer and more at ease.  

She started crying lightly.  “He…she…whoever they are…made me use my powers again,” she said, sniffling.  “They showed me a picture of this creepy looking rock, threatened me with a knife, and told me to make it appear…like I made the vodka appear.”  She wailed a bit.  “I’m sorry I was so dismissive of your plea to be more cautious, Charlie.  If I hadn’t been so carefree, maybe none of this would have happened,” she huffed out, her eyes full of tears. 

Charlie shook his head, dismissing her need to apologize.  Nick told her to stop apologizing, and that she was okay.  But something she said made Charlie do a double take.  

“Uh, Darcy…that rock.  What did the rock look like?” he asked, almost certain he already knew the answer.  

She stopped for a second, collecting herself.  “Uh…it was sort of modest in size, and actually kind of cool looking.  Dark black, like the night sky,” she said.

“With swirls of blues, greens, and oranges in it?” Charlie finished, with certainty.  

She nodded.  “Yeah, how did you know?”  

The final dots had been connected for Charlie.  Somehow, he had seen the Ophidian Opal in some sort of a dream or dream vision a few days ago, and not even realized it, not even when he saw the painting of it in the Book.  Wherever it had been, Charlie knew that it had most certainly been reunited with the amulet; whether or not the emeralds joined it, he did not know, but a pit in his stomach told him that the complete amulet now lay in the hands of the necromancer.  And unfortunately, Darcy had summoned that last piece for him, without even knowing.  This whole train of thought was interrupted by malicious cackling from the far end of the chamber, where an individual adorned with black robes and a black cloak, raven colored hair falling to their shoulders stood.  They held in the air on a golden chain a modest amulet, shaped like a snake’s eye, a black center stone flanked on either side with brilliant emeralds, both of which were sparkling nefariously in the purple torchlight.  The Ophidian Amulet.  Marching in from behind, assembling on either side of them, a collection of undead, several of them skeletal, others a wide array of grotesque fleshy corpses, some which looked freshly dead, others as if they had been exhumed after decades, or even a century. Possibly two dozen or more in total.  

Nick turned to Darcy, swallowing hard in fear.  “Darcy…I hope you have the energy to summon yourself a weapon, because I don’t think we’ll get really far without your help,” he said eyes wide at the sight of the undead.  She was staring at them, too, a mixture of fear and anger on her face. 

“Don’t worry, Nicholas.  I’m already working on it,” she said, gritting her teeth. 

Chapter Text

Nick was not sure why Darcy had elected to summon a sledgehammer, but upon thinking about it, it really did make sense.  It could easily pulverize bone and do some blunt force damage to the fleshier of the undead.  He was a little worried about how she would actually wield it, but that was a minor problem in the face of a small horde of the undead and one malicious necromancer in control of an amulet that greatly amplified the power of death magic.  Nick adopted a stance akin to a boxer, his hand cocked and ready to fire off a bolt of his fae-fire whenever necessary.  Next to him, Charlie was lost in thought, as if he was thinking about incantations or any other information he could use to help combat.  Ahead, he could see his father and Mr. Spring had adopted similar stances, as if they were ready to fight.  Nick was worried about his father’s magical endurance; earlier he noticed that his fae-fire had wavered a bit after some time.  All of these things he noticed, felt, thought in a few split moments, before it was all interrupted by a wicked, cackling voice. 

“Casters and Fae, so…so happy for you to join me,” the necromancer said.  Their cadence and accent were peculiar, like a blend of linguistics European and unknown to Nick.  It gave him horrid chills.  

“Before I had really no goals beyond assembling the Ophidian Amulet, but the more I dream about things, the more I want to assert myself on the world,” they continued.  “You don’t know how much you will help me achieve that.” 

Mr. Spring goaded the necromancer.  “What do you think you will do to us?  Enthrall us?”  

There was that wicked, chilling cackle again, followed by an insidious look on their face.  “That’s precisely what I will try.  My flesh titan was a work of art, only imagine what kind of servants undead Casters could make,” they said gleefully.  “Perhaps strong enough for me to make a part of this world my own.”  

Nick scoffed.  This person was absolutely delusional, their dreams a cheap version of a B-rated horror movie.  Either they had a greater grasp on the longevity of the undead in the face of military grade weapons, or they had no concept of the outside world due to their seemingly prolonged obsession with acquiring the Ophidian Amulet.  Apparently, Nick scoffed a lot louder than he knew, as both Darcy and Charlie had turned to look at him with looks of surprise.  The necromancer, too, had apparently heard the scoff, and appeared greatly angered.  

“You scoff, young one.  You have no idea what I’m capable of.  I have roamed this Earth for centuries.  I practically started the first World War.  I would find a way to achieve my goals,” they said crisply, stung by Nick’s doubt.  “You’re lucky you’re pretty.  Perhaps I’ll spare you thrall-hood for living captivity.  I could think of some uses…”

A scathing tut emerged from Charlie.  “You are the foulest, most putrid person I have ever seen.  Even the most homophobic arses pale in comparison,” he shouted angrily.  Charlie clearly interpreted the “think of some uses” part as some sort of sexual servant, which made Nick sick to his stomach.  

Nick jumped in. “I’d rather be dead than spend a day with you, necromancer!” he shouted.  

Before anyone could say anything else, Stéphane Nelson sent out a crackling shockwave of fae-fire out a fleshy corpse, shattering the hold of necromancy on it.  “You will be dead and gone before you can even think about laying your filthy hands on my son,” he growled.  

Nick had never seen his father this animated before.  It was a sight to behold, and one that made his heart grow another size or two.  He barely had time to dwell on those feelings, before things started to unravel, rather quickly.  The necromancer stood there, unphased by his father’s attack, or his threat.  The grin on their face looked malicious and dark.  Suddenly, they raised the Ophidian Amulet in the air, cackling wildly, beginning a menacing chant, language unfamiliar to Nick.  Charlie tensed up next to him.  The vision.  He knew Charlie was revisiting the vision, hearing this.  Much to their horror, the body that had been struck by Stéphane’s fae-fire slowly struggled back to its feet, as if it had never been struck.  Shit.  This was going to be infinitely more complicated than they anticipated. 

“March forward, my thralls,” the necromancer commanded gleefully, holding up the amulet, which was humming with energy.  The undead seemed to exude even darker energy than before, the power of the amulet enchanting them. 

Mr. Spring, anticipating this, started waving his hands majestically.  Nick could see heat rising off of them, small sparks igniting in the air.  Suddenly a wall of fire erupted around a group of a half dozen or so of the fleshier thralls, encircling them.  They groaned, unsure what to do, surrounded by fire, trapped within its confines.  The heat coming off of the flames disturbed the other thralls around them, confusing them.  The skeletons on the other side did not appear bothered, and began marching forward, armed with clubs and other crude weapons.  The adults keenly focused on the fleshier ones, so it appeared the teens would be stuck dealing with skeletons.  Darcy stood at the ready, sledgehammer prepped to swing.  Nick never had seen her so focused before, the complete opposite of her normal chaotic self.  

“All right, Darcy?” he asked, forming up near her.  Charlie stepped back a bit, unsure what to do.  

“Let’s see, Nick…I’ve got a mild-to-moderate hangover.  Thanks, vodka.  I’ve been kidnapped.  Also, thanks to vodka.  I’m cranky and  I’m ready to smash shit,” she replied.  

“Crack on then,” he said, smiling faintly.  She glanced at him, smiling, a twinkle in her eye.  

The first skeleton approached, club in hand.  Darcy, unafraid, took a crack at it first, decidedly aiming for its forearm, particularly the thinner parts of the radius and ulna.  The skeleton let out an awkward squawk of sorts, caught off guard by its arm being clearly shattered, bone fragments falling to the ground, the club included.  Not wasting a second, Darcy took a second swing, knocking the thrall’s skull off of its vertebral column, almost as if it was a cricket ball, before swiping at it to knock it down to the floor.  Another one was quickly approaching, which Nick knocked back with a blast of fae-fire, stopping in its tracks momentarily, but not dispelling the magic that animated it.  The protection of the amulet appeared to be strong, magically, but not physically.  Two other skeletons had arrived, giving Darcy more to deal with.  Nick was not sure what to do at the moment, and he started to panic a bit.  Out of nowhere, Charlie emerged holding what appeared to be a femur bone from the other skeleton that Darcy had already dismembered.  Wasting no time, he hurled the bone straight for one of the oncoming skeletons, smashing its shoulder girdle, unbalancing itself enough to fall backwards. 

“Really, a femur, Char?”  Nick said, surprised.  

“One must improvise,” Charlie said, in a sassy tone, winking at Nick.  

“But there’s a club right there,” Nick replied, giggling a bit.

“I’ve always wanted to hold a bone,” Charlie said, shrugging his shoulders.  Nick blushed, laughing.  

“OHmygod, not that way!”  Charlie yelped.  

Their brief exchange was broken by another smashing noise, Darcy elegantly twirling her sledgehammer, bringing it down upon another skeleton’s skull.  She was so forceful with the hammer that it cracked the cranial vault, went through the base of the skull and crushed through the vertebral column, and the thoracic cavity, cracking the sternum.    

“Christ you two, you even flirt in the face of danger,” she groaned, her teeth gritting in focus, ready to smash more skeletons.  

“I try, Darcy,” Nick replied, smiling roguishly.  “On another hand, how the hell did you learn such battering and swinging skills?” 

“This is going to sound butch as hell, but one of my summer jobs was working with a handyman as an assistant.  That’s how I could afford the trip.  Also why my mind went immediately to a sledgehammer,” she said, spinning to take another crack at another skeleton.  

“My god, you’re like a lesbian Lumber Jill,” Charlie quipped, grabbing a club off the ground to help her.  Darcy laughed riotously. 

“I also used to play cricket with my family, you know, before the excessive homophobia put me off entirely,” she said.

Charlie did a low sweep with the club at another skeleton, knocking it off balance, one femur becoming modestly disarticulated from the rest of the leg, unbalancing it completely.  

“My god you two, you’re having all of the fun without me,” Nick whined, with a mopey voice. 

He had gotten a few more blasts of fae-fire off, but they were nowhere near effective as straight up dismembering skeletons.  The death magic seemed to be not intentional or focused enough in the current state to get them reassembled.  Well, that and the sledgehammer had just straight up smashed bones to pieces.  

“There’s only a few left, Nick,” Darcy quipped.  “Wanna put those strong rugby arms to good use?”  Charlie giggled at that.  

“Yes, please.  Hand me the sledgehammer,” he replied, chuckling.  

This was turning out to be fun.  Darcy handed off the hammer, leaning back against a column to catch her breath a bit.  It truly was exhilarating.  The skeletons, albeit armed, were stupidly slow, almost to the point that it was a waste to even bother arming them.  And the necromancer wanted to carry out some devious plot with them?  Laughable.  Two more skeletons had reached them, and Nick did not hesitate to take a wide swipe at both of them, crashing into their rib cages.  The resounding shattering noise sounded delightful.  Nick brought another sweep down, knocking both of their torsos clearly off of them, their lower appendages falling to the ground with a clatter.  He turned to the other two, meeting Charlie’s eyes.  Charlie looked like he was properly entranced.  

“You okay, Char?” Nick asked, softly.  

Charlie spluttered a bit, barely getting anything out.  Darcy just laughed, maniacally  

“I think you’ve short circuited him with sexiness, Nicholas,” she said, cackling.  

Nick blushed crimson, and Charlie continued to splutter, also turning crimson.  Some searing crackles of sound and cackling emerged from the other end of the room, breaking their attention from the awkwardness.  The necromancer had taken up battle with some of their thralls, facing Mr. Spring and Mr. Nelson together.  Mr. Nelson would strike the thralls with fae-fire, knocking them back, disabling them for a few minutes.  The necromancer and Mr. Spring were sparring magically, little sparks firing off between them.  Occasionally the necromancer would send out a ray of blackish-purple magic, which Mr. Nelson would deflect from Mr. Spring by means of projecting his fae-fire almost as a shield.  Mr. Spring would parry various other magical attacks, sending back even more.  It was so captivating to watch, and incredibly nerve wracking.  Nick could feel his heart pounding and hear Charlie’s pounding.  This could not be healthy for his anxiety. 

In a bid to distract himself and Charlie, he had to come up with a plan, and Charlie had to help plan that plan.  “Char, we need to find out a way to help the adults,” he said, turning to him.  

“But what do we do, Nick?”  Charlie replied, breathlessly and shaky.  His anxiety must have been clouding him up already.  Nick grasped his hand, pulling him in for a hug.  

“Hey, it’s alright.  I’m here.  Let’s just take some breaths.  Think about it for a bit,” Nick said, soothingly.  His mind, too, was clouded by everything that had happened that night.  It was almost hard to think with the adrenaline pumping through his head.  Their moment was soon interrupted by a throat clearing noise, coming from Darcy.  

“You do know that I am still here, right?”  she asked, incredulously.  They both looked at her, confused at what she was getting at.  And then it dawned on both of them.  

“Oh. Oh!” They both said, in amazement.  

“Darcy, you’re a genius,” Nick said, smiling widely.  

“Proper genius.  Go on, have at it.  I mean, it can’t hurt to try,” Charlie said, nodding.  

Darcy kneeled down, put out her hands, and closed her eyes.  Her breathing suddenly slowed down to a more regulated, slow place.  Nick could see her focusing intently, her eyes starting to scrunch together. She was imagining the Ophidian Amulet, thinking of its insidious black opal, its glimmering emeralds, all set in the yellow-gold.  Could she actually manifest it, or was there some sort of magic protecting the amulet from interference?  Nick and Charlie both stared at her as she concentrated.  Nick’s heart was pounding, his throat dry with anticipation.  He could feel how tense Charlie was, how fast his heart was beating.  He squeezed Charlie’s hand.   Please work. Please work.  He drew in a deep breath, almost feeling sick with worry.  It felt like an eternity had passed, yet only maybe a minute had.  Suddenly, a popping sound, and a small flash of pink-light, tinged with orange, almost like a sunset.  Nick exhaled, just as the amulet appeared in Darcy’s hands.  In their haste to celebrate, to raise the dead, or whatever, the necromancer had seemingly taken no precautions to protect the amulet from magic.  Or simply they thought such steps were unnecessary, thinking a powerful magical amulet somehow was impervious to such interference from a teenager, despite the fact that she had procured the final stone for the setting. 

Darcy chuckled.  “Damn.  For half a second, I didn’t think that would even work.”  

Nick guffawed, and Charlie exhaled shakily.  

“Now what do we do with it?” she asked, uncertain.  

“Maybe Nick blasts it with fae-fire?”  Charlie said, posing it as a question, showing his skepticism as to whether or not it would do anything.  Nick obliged him, firing off a bolt of his power at the amulet.  It looked completely unaffected.  Nick shrugged.  

“You know, Char…you did mention to me during the love-bite situation, that your dad had said something,” he said, trying to recall the hazy details.  “What was that, again?”  

“Uh…he’s rather adamant that sometimes…well, oftentimes, magic is not the solution for every problem,” Charlie replied, trying to pick up what Nick was thinking about.  

Nick was eyeing the sledgehammer.  He turned to Darcy, handing her the heavy tool.  

“You wanna do the honors, Darcy?  It only makes sense for you to try it out, given how you were kidnapped and everything,” he said.  

Darcy’s eyes glinted coolly and devilishly.  “Smashing shit?  Always down.”   She took the sledgehammer from Nick, and did a few practice swings, making sure her target would be struck.  Raising the hammer above her head, she swung it down forcefully, letting out a strong grunt of effort.  Nick looked upon her in near slow-motion, tracing the pathway of the tool until it made contact with the amulet, a quiet cracking noise being faintly detected.  

“One more time, Darcy,” he said excitedly.  

She obliged, aiming again, and then brought the sledgehammer down once again, forcefully, a stronger crunchy noise coming from it.  She dropped the hammer, and they all squatted down to examine their handiwork.  As they got closer, they noticed dark blackish-purple sparks crackling from the center black opal, followed by small puffs of what appeared to be the gas that the necromancer used at the hotel party.  Slight cracks were in the emeralds as well, but not as severe as the opal.  The longer they stared, the more gas and sparks emitted from it, as if it was dying a slow death.  

“Victory at last,” Darcy said in a breathy voice.  

“I’m going to give it a good whack, just for safety sake,” Nick said.  

They backed away, and Nick did the same as Darcy, sizing up the amulet before bringing  a full swing down on the jewels.  When it made contact, he could have sworn he heard a small scream come from it, and definitely saw a bright spark upon contact.  As they examined it, a proper crack severing the opal in two was detected.  Mr. Spring was certainly correct.  Sometimes, there were problems that were much more easily solved without magic.  

Charlie, blushing furiously, his eyes clearly locked in on Nick’s biceps, was curious.  “How did you even think of that?” he asked.  

“One of my projects in year 9 science was on gemstones and minerals.  I had to memorize the Mohs scale of relative hardness for common gemstones and minerals.  It was torture.”  Nick paused to huff a little bit.  He really put a lot of energy into the last smash.  “Opals are 5-6 on the scale, right in the middle.  They can be scratched much more easily than emeralds, sapphires, or diamonds, so I figured…a good whack or two from a sledgehammer could possibly crack it,” he said modestly, as if it were common knowledge that everyone just knew.   

“Nicholas…you never cease to amaze me,” Charlie said, cooing a bit and blushing.  “Never. You’re so smart!  Also, I definitely skipped a few sessions of year 9 science.  For obvious reasons…”  Nick brought Charlie in for a quick embrace and kiss.  

Darcy nervously coughed, and they both turned to look at her.  “I don’t mean to be homophobic again and interrupt yet another moment, but I think the adults are struggling,” she said, her voice full of worry. 

She was not wrong.  Stéphane was starting to lag a bit, looking exhausted.  Julio now had to pick up the slack, and seemed like he needed a second wind.  Instinctively, Nick ran off to join them, Charlie shouting after him. One of the undead had broken through the flame ring and was heading for his father at an alarming pace, who was struggling to repel it with fae-fire.  Nick set off crackles of his own fae-fire at it, hitting it square in the chest, causing it to stagger back.  He reached his father, trying to help him from staggering from fatigue.  

“Papa, what’s happening?  Are you okay?”

“Nicholas, get out of here,” he yelled, pushing Nick away as a bolt of dark energy from the necromancer flew forward, hitting Stéphane squarely in the shoulder instead of striking Nick.  He crumpled down in agony, his voice echoing the hall.  

The whole event passed in slow motion to Nick, who started to dive down to the ground to help his dad, who was writhing in pain.  Charlie had rushed to join the fray, leaving Darcy with her sledgehammer.  Nick was having to choose between trying to attend to his father, comfort him through pain, and having to protect him and Charlie from the necromancer’s magic.  He felt livid, livid beyond what he had ever felt before.  Not even Harry Greene, not even his brother David stirred that much rage in him.  To hurt his family, to endanger the one that he loved and his family, the feeling just intensified in him until he just burst.  In a sweeping motion with this hand, he cut horizontally across his chest, his palm facing outward.  As he made the motion, light poured from his hand, an intense fae-fire colored with hues of purple, pink, and blue, forming almost the shape of a blade.  Before he could even second guess it, the blade-like light shot forward, striking the remaining undead before ricocheting off them and striking the necromancer in the back of the shoulder.  The undead, several of which had their heads completely severed from them, released the strange gaseous substance, twitched, and ceased moving.  

The necromancer, struck by the light, was caught completely off guard.  They glanced around for their thralls, realizing that each had been struck down or unanimated.  Reaching for the Ophidian Amulet instinctively, the confusion set in.  

“What.  Where?  The amulet?”  They started to boil with anger.  

Beyond the Springs and Nelsons, Darcy stood, sledgehammer in hand, amulet in the other, which she raised into the air victoriously, the middle finger on that hand held up proudly.  

“You looking for this?” she asked, cockily.  They scowled at Darcy. 

“You little wench.  Give that back!” the necromancer screamed.  

Darcy dropped it on the floor, and unceremoniously gave it several more rapid, powerful thwacks with the sledgehammer.   Just for good measure.  

“If you hadn’t noticed, we already broke it,” Darcy said, smiling mischievously.  “Your plans are properly fucked now.”  

Nick glanced at his father, who Charlie was attending to, and then to Darcy, and then at the necromancer.  He had a creeping feeling that they were not done with the entanglement.  The necromancer laughed, sounding mad.  It was the quintessential laugh of the villain that had not shown all their cards yet, leaving one awful, awful thing left to throw at the heroes of the story.  Except now, they were the heroes of the story, and the idea of what was to come tied Nick’s stomach in knots.  

“Unluckily for you, I will still make it out of this quite well.  Your life force alone will probably keep me going for another 1000 years,” the necromancer said, laughing.  

The necromancer raised their hands, cackling, starting to focus on something, and then began chanting in a strange language.  Nick could feel a stinging, pulling feeling in his chest, prickling pain that was intensifying, as if someone was pushing him down relentlessly, trying to drown him without there even being water present.  It started at needling, but progressed, his capillaries felt like they were quickly constricting, a stinging feeling racing across his skin, almost as if he was being rapidly frostbitten.  His chest tensed, his ribs felt like they were being pulled, making breathing difficult.  He could see Charlie wincing in pain, kneeling down on the floor, his father groaning, grabbing his shoulder as if daggers had been driven into it.  

“Char…Char, DAVID!” was all he could shout, seeing Charlie’s face light up in recognition, just before the both of them raised a free hand and simultaneously shouted, “ Silē!”

The necromancer immediately croaked, able to get some words out, but struggling immensely.  Croaking, they clutched their throat, stuttering and staggering about, completely surprised by the incantation thrown their way.  The pain in Nick’s chest had subsided, but did not go away, as the necromancer was still actively trying to chant, thankfully their voice growing even more useless at the passing seconds.  Before Nick had the chance to even ponder what to do next, he noticed a flickering of flame from the far side of the room.  Mr. Spring was doing something, and Nick could not draw his eyes away from Charlie’s father.  Tugging on Charlie’s shoulder, Nick directed his attention over the same way.  

Julio Spring stood tall, correcting his posture from the necromancer’s prior attack.  His right hand extended up into the air, his left reaching out in front of him at shoulder height.  His focus was intense.  Spinning around him were ribbons… no …bands of fire, intricate bands of fire, almost like lines of latitude, although not perfectly horizontal, tilted on an axis.  From both his hands, sparks emerged, embers forming and joining into the madness of the flowing bands of flame.  Under his breath he was muttering something intently, in Spanish, nothing which could be made out by those surrounding him, their hearing obscured completely by the smoldering, crackling noises of the flames.  Nick felt like he had been watching for ages, when suddenly Mr. Spring made some elaborate movements with his hands, twirling them artistically through the air, commanding the bands of flame to lunge forward to surround the necromancer, who stood, stunned, unable to counteract the magic due to the silencing spell.  Mr. Spring’s hands continued to spark, embers crackling off as he chanted, the bands of flame enclosing themselves around the necromancer, slowly getting closer and closer to the hem of their cloak, until finally it caught flame.  Almost as if he was trying to smash an insect between his hands, Julio Spring smacked his hands together forcefully, sparks and embers leaping forward, the bands of flame completely pressing into Inge Hrafenson, as if they had been placed in a sarcophagus of flame.  

“Go back to the void, agent of Darkness and death,” Julio Spring snarled.  

Silencing incantations seemed to work, even during the process of death, if it even could be considered death.  It was more of a send off, as so little of Inge Hrafenson was actually living.  They tried to move, but severe pain seared through them, immobilizing them.  They involuntarily screamed, but nothing came out.  They looked down at their hands, centuries of stolen life force, centuries of cursed death magic seeping out of their flesh as it burned under the Caster’s fire.  Inge had no regrets in life, up until then.  Perhaps if they had returned to Scandinavia, ignored the lure of the Ophidian Amulet completely, avoided Paris completely…perhaps they could have found their mother and resurrected her.  She was the only one who had loved Inge on this planet, and now as their time came to an end, they had almost total certainty that they would not see her in the beyond.  For Necromancy had consequences on the soul, both in life and the afterlife, and it was time to reckon with them.  Inge wanted to raise a hand in thanks for such a ceremonious death, but as they went to raise their right hand, the entire arm severed in a fiery, smoldering ruin.  That was the last thing Inge saw before passing out, and not soon after, passed into the void.  The Darkness greeted them enthusiastically, their arrival over 1000 years in the making, ever since the day Inge pulled the setting of the Ophidian Amulet out of the book in the Egyptian tomb.  They were a long-term investment for the Darkness, one that had paid off handsomely. 

Chapter Text

A heaping pile of ash smoldered before them, stinking of burnt flesh and hair slightly.  It was too crispy at this point for it to overpower the stench of the corpses strewn about the room.  Darcy was casually walking forward to them, dragging her sledgehammer with her, almost instinctively. Mr. Nelson groaned in pain again, his shoulder deeply wounded by the necromancer’s magic.  Charlie took Nick by the hands, glancing at him with loving eyes.  

“Remember, purposeful, clear, helpful intentions, Nick,” he said calmly, squeezing Nick’s hands lightly.  Nick nodded, taking a breath, shutting his eyes, and clearing his mind of the clutter from the past hour, or however long they had just been.

Together, they put their hands over Mr. Nelson’s injured shoulder, gazing into each other's eyes lovingly.  Mr. Nelson definitely looked at them with a measured grin of knowledge.  

“ Sānō. Sānō. Sānō. Sānō, ” they chanted quietly, their hands waving over the wound, soft and warm lights emitting from them.  The wound slowly began to close up a bit, leaving behind dried blood and what appeared to be a wicked looking scar, like Mr. Nelson had been slashed by a knife or sword.  He grunted and grimaced through the healing process, clenching his fists.  

“It…still stings with pain,” he said through a clenched jaw. “Not as bad as before, but…it’s like needles, hundreds of tiny ones, poking my shoulder.”  

Nick was clearly worried, thinking they had messed up, just like had before.  Charlie shot him a look to communicate otherwise.  In his experience with Nick’s eye, it really appeared to have worked the same way.  Perhaps no one had ever magically healed a wound caused by necromancy before?  

“I think…perhaps necromancy leaves a scar.  I mean, the Book mentioned that it forever alters those who use it, so maybe if you get affected by it, something gets left behind?  Clearly a scar…”  Charlie said, quietly trailing off.  He did not want to give Mr. Nelson any incorrect information about the situation, but figured it was a good idea to at least put a reasonable hypothesis out there.  

Nick nodded along with what Charlie was saying.  “Maybe the pain will draw down over time, papa?” he said with some hope, but also uncertainty in his voice.  

Mr. Nelson nodded his head.  “I’m just…going to continue sitting here for a bit before we get out of here.  The stench is awful, but I can barely move with the fatigue,” he groaned. 

Darcy, who had been awfully quiet for some time, suddenly piped up.  “Hey you two…uh…Mr. Spring isn’t looking too good over here,” she said, voice drenched in worry.  

They ran over to where Mr. Spring was slouched against a column, his breathing rather haggard.  Whether or not he was in pain was difficult to say, as he was not making any whimpering or groaning noises.  In fact, he looked in shock, almost medical grade shock.  

“Darcy…conjure, summon…whatever it is, get us a warm blanket, ASAP,” Nick yelled.  

Charlie kneeled down by his father, tears falling from his face.  Nick was trying to get his father to respond to him, asking how many fingers he was holding up, what day it was, short answer questions.  Julio Spring was not able to answer them,  his eyes glazed over, his mouth gaping in between quick exhales.  Charlie grabbed his dad’s shoulder, instinctively, his hand brushing his neck.  It was cool and clammy.  He went to go check his father’s hands for similar clamminess, which was when he realized they were nothing like that.  A quick brush revealed what appeared to be the early stages of blistering and inflammation.  

“Nick!  He’s…he’s got burns all over his hands,” Charlie cried out, some tears falling from his face as the distress mounted.  

Darcy rushed over with a wooly looking blanket, handing it to Nick, who moved to adjust Mr. Spring into a flat position on the ground, covering him with the blanket.   

“Darcy, hold up his legs please.  We need to make sure he’s not going into actual shock,” Nick said, firmly.  She repositioned herself and raised Mr. Spring’s legs a bit. He began mumbling a bit, seemingly becoming more aware of the situation.  

“Char, you need to see if you can do anything with his hands.  I know you can do it, Char.  I know you are upset right now, but you can do it.  Clear your mind.  I know you can focus on helping your dad, healing him and only that,” Nick said, calmly.   He reached out and put hand on Charlie’s shoulder, giving it a firm and gentle squeeze.  

Charlie’s mind was racing, but Nick was right.  He could try to do this, at the least.  He owed his dad so much, and he knew so little about things still, and wanted to learn all that he could from his father.  He needed to do this, he needed to keep proving himself as a Caster, not only to his father, but to himself.  Those voices in his head that told him to crawl back in fear, to tense up, to fail…he could not let them win.  You are worthwhile, Charlie.  You are capable, Charlie.   

“Dad,” he said, trying to clear his sobs out, “Dad, I’m going to try healing your hands.  If you feel pain, or discomfort, blink for us, please,” he said, sniffling.  Mr. Spring’s breathing had slowed a bit, but not generally improved, and he moved his head slightly as if to indicate some sort of understanding of the situation. 

He drifted both of his hands over his dad’s right hand, and pulled his focus inward.  Focus .  Focus .  Clear your mind, and fix on the intention – healing, saving your dad .  He took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes, before he started to chant, “ Sānō. Sānō. Sānō.”   He opened his eyes to see the faint glow of light over his dad’s wounded hands.  The blisters seemed to retreat a bit, leaving behind raw, reddish-pink skins akin to a severe sunburn.  He stayed there a bit longer, continuing to chant, but not much else seemed to be working, and thus he moved over to the other hand, which had garnered more blisters as time had passed.  He sensed that he would need to work longer on that one. 

“Keep going, Char.  He’s seeming to improve a bit…like you’ve healed enough damage that his body’s reaction is starting to subsist slightly,” Nick said, almost confidently.  Where did he get the confidence to make such evaluations?  

Charlie continued to work on his dad’s other hand.  The blisters on this one were a bit more resistant to his magic.

“Hey, Nick…can you help?” he asked, hopeful that the two of them together could speed up the process.  Nick leaned over Mr. Spring, reaching his hand over the burnt hand, and added his chanting into the situation.  Darcy watched them work from afar, a look of intrigue and fear riddling her face.  Mr. Nelson had gotten up a bit, and crawled over to them.  Some of the stubborn blisters had begun to clear away, but it was still taking a lot longer than the other hand had. 

“Boys, keep going,” Mr. Spring cried out hoarsely.  “I’m in pain, but feeling so much better than I was 10 minutes ago.”   And so they did, they kept going for another five minutes, until only the severe sunburn look was present.  

Mr. Spring was able to lift himself up, with the help of Nick.  He took a look down at his hands and tutted a bit, followed by a sigh.  “First degree burns it is then, I suppose,” he said, dryly.  “Although I think I was firmly in the second degree category a bit ago, possibly even close to third degree, which you helped reverse,” he said, nodding at Charlie and then Nick.  

“We are all extremely lucky,” Mr. Nelson said gruffly.  “We had just the right combination of people, powers, and damn extensive luck to pull that off.”  

Nick looked at Charlie, locking eyes.  Charlie smiled weakly.  He knew that luck was a part of it, but so was love.  Love was definitely a necessary ingredient to their success.  

“I hate to interrupt any debriefing…but are we well enough to get out of here?  It is quarter past midnight already and god knows how long it will take to navigate the tunnels out,” Darcy said.  

“Give the dads a few more minutes to rest before we get going.  Plus…we need new torches,” Charlie said, glancing around at the walls.  The purple fire torches were dwindling, their powers depleting rapidly with the necromancer’s death.  

“Or…I’ll just get us some,” she said, smiling.  She really enjoyed every moment she got to use her powers.  This time, she had an audience of both the adults, too, who looked at her with curiosity in regards to the statement she made.  

Darcy held out her hands, and closed her eyes, focusing on the objects she wanted to manifest.  Her breathing became more controlled, insistent on procuring two torches for them to use to escape the tunnels.  And after what seemed to be almost no time at all, the same flash of pinkish-orange tinged color and small popping noise happened, and two torches appeared, one in each outstretched hand.  She was getting much and much better at this, but necessity understandably drove those leaps and bounds.  Mr. Nelson stared at her with wide eyes.  Mr. Spring also stared at her, his mouth agape in surprise.  

“Torches procured,” she said, proudly.  

“How…curious,” was all Mr. Spring could say, quietly.  

Mr. Nelson cocked his eyebrow.  “I only assume this is why you were kidnapped, friend of Nicholas,” he said.  

“Darcy.  My name’s Darcy.  And…yeah, I think that about sums things up, Mr. Nelson,” she replied, more chipper than the rest of the group could muster up.  

“Dad, can you stand up yet?” Charlie asked, his voice shaky.  

“I…I think so, Charlie,” he replied.  “If Nick can help me up, I think I’ll be fine.  Might have to take the walk slowly at first, though.”

Nick stood behind him, reaching under his shoulders and armpits, and pulled him up to his feet. Mr. Spring swayed there for a bit, with Nick stabilizing him a bit.  

“Mr. Nelson, how about you?” Charlie asked.  

“Charlie, I think I am fine now.  Still a bit of pain, but it has subsided more,” he said, standing up.  “I can perhaps help Mr. Spring a bit with his walk.  As long as he’s not on my injured shoulder at all.” 

And so they departed the antechamber of death.  Darcy led the way, sledgehammer in one hand, torch in the other hand, its beam of light brightly cast through the darkness.  Charlie followed behind her slightly, his torch also pointing ahead.  Nick and the dads brought up the back.  Charlie had tasked Nick to “dad duty” just in case either one of them needed his superior upper body strength for help.  They were quickly approaching the heaping pile of flesh left behind by the corpse monstrosity, as evidenced by the stench.  

“Good god, what’s that?” Darcy asked, fearfully, coming to a halt. 

“What we had to take out before we even got to you,” Charlie said from behind, sighing, carefully stepping around it with her. 

Thankfully, it had not regained itself during their battle, having completely missed the activation of the Ophidian Amulet.  Charlie pawed at his hoodie pocket, thinking about it.  For whatever reason, he felt compelled to take the amulet with him, even in its broken form.  The opal now was in three different parts, the emeralds were chipped mercilessly, and the gold setting had been bent in several spots.  It felt stupid to do so, but he knew it would no longer work. It was a grim souvenir of Paris.  Darcy had her Paris Hoodie.  Nick had his bisexual jumper.  Charlie had a mangled, defunct magical amulet.   It only felt correct, given everything that had happened.  Time passed quickly from that moment out, despite it being nearly 1 AM.   Soon they approached the stairs up to the cathedral’s crypt.  

“Dads, are you good with the stairs?” Darcy asked, yelling back to them.  They were about 40 feet away, slowly bringing up the back.  

“I think so, as long as the boys can help us up,” Mr. Nelson replied.  This would be fun, Charlie thought.  

Indeed it was.  It was a fun 10 minutes of trying to guide enfeebled middle-aged men up stairs. Before they knew it, they had entered the fresher, cool air of the crypt.  One more set of stairs to go. It was 1:30 AM when they descended the stairs of the Sacre Cœur, early by Parisian party standards, but late for those who had spent a significant part of their evening fighting off evil entities.  Mr. Spring wanted to go to his hotel, but Mr. Nelson was adamant that he go to the A&E to check out his burn wounds.  They argued for a little bit, with Charlie siding with Mr. Nelson, telling his father to stop avoiding medical care for something, and that magic could not fix everything.  He beamed when Charlie said that, and capitulated.   Mr. Nelson summoned two rideshares for them, one to take the teens back to the hotel, and the other to take he and Mr. Spring to the hospital.  

In the back of the rideshare, the three of them looked at each other, sleepily.  

“Let’s get our story straight,” Charlie said.  “Darcy, you got sick.  Both physically and emotionally, over a fight you had with Tara.  We went off to find you, since you got some air, and then we had a long heart-to-heart about it all, but completely lost track of time due to the mystical magic of Paris.  Sensible, no?” 

“I mean, whatever…that sounds pretty normal, I guess.  Definitely preferential to kidnapping and such,” she replied, yawning.  “What if Tara asks?”  

Nick chimed in, “She kind of already knows that you were missing, but I told her not to go to the teachers about that.  So…she just doesn’t know why.”  

“I have a feeling we’ll need to have another meeting of friends at some point,” Charlie said, sighing.  “There’s just no use hiding this from close friends and significant others. The pamplemousse, that is.  It just isn’t healthy.”  

Darcy groaned a bit.  “Ugh, I don’t want to think about actual pamplemousse anymore,” she said. 

There was a break in conversation, when Charlie turned to Nick.  “Seeing you take charge back there was incredible.  How did you know what to do?” he asked, legitimately curious as to how his boyfriend had any sort of sense to deal with first aid.  Nick couldn’t tell in the light, but Charlie was also profusely blushing.  He had omitted the fact that he also found his actions incredibly hot , too.

“Rugby, honestly,” Nick replied.  “Coach Singh had us sign up for some first aid classes in the fall, and I’m going to do it again for next fall, since I’ll be the Captain.”  

Charlie just nodded, mystified.  “Oh,” was all he could say, smiling at Nick.  

The rest of the ride back to the hotel was quiet, as was the ascent to the fourth floor in the elevator.  Once the door opened, they peaked their heads out, half expecting to see teachers, police, and worried students, but instead were met with calm.  They opened room 414’s door slowly, unsure of who was in there, tiptoeing into the room.  Isaac and Tara were curled up in the bed closest to the door, the Book in Isaac’s arms, as if he had been reading it for advice, or just out of curiosity examining it.  Tara, her make-up well run from crying, next to him, gently sleeping, her internal tempest momentarily quelled.  Instinctively, Darcy went over to sit down next to her, lightly shaking her out of her sleep.  Naturally, this set off a chain reaction of waking up Isaac, too, who clung to the Book tightly, as if someone had come to steal it.  

Tara, despite being exhausted, her face lit up.  “Oh my god, you’re okay,” she said, starting to cry in happiness, hugging her girlfriend, pulling her in for a messy kiss.

Isaac, trying to avoid their sloppy, impromptu snog, looked over at Nick and Charlie.  “I’m glad you’ve all come back in one piece,” he said.  He got up and gave the Book to Charlie.  “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.  You know…me and books.  Thought I might find something valuable in here…except I soon realized it was in a dozen different languages, and then tried to comfort Tara before falling asleep with it…”

“Hey, no worries Isaac,” Charlie replied.  “I think we want to get to bed soon.  Where’s Tao?”  he asked, suddenly putting together his absence in favor of Tara’s presence.  

“Oh…he and Elle are sharing a bed in our room.  They eventually kicked everyone out after we convinced them that there was some sort of gas leak and electrical short in the building.  They bought it.  I guess some of them had noticed the gas,” Isaac said.  

Tara piped in, “Don’t worry, we’ll head back and disturb their sleepover.  If they’re not actually asleep yet.  I sort of want to change out of party clothes, and I’m sure Darcy wants to change.”

“Yeah…we all sort of reek of…the underground,” Charlie replied quietly.  Really, he wanted to say death and burnt flesh, but that just did not feel appropriate for the time.

Tara and Darcy got up to leave.  Charlie turned to them, “I promise we’ll explain everything…sometime soon.  Maybe after we recover from this trip,” he said.  The both of them just nodded.  He’d need to clear that timeline with Darcy, more than anyone.  Isaac also got out of bed all of a sudden.  

“You know…I think I’ll go read and cuddle with Sahar.  She’s been meaning to talk my ear off about a book anyway,” he said, waving them goodbye, a flirtatious glint in his eyes.  Smooth , Isaac.  Smooth .  “Just no sex in the room,” he said as the door shut.  

“WHAT!” Charlie exclaimed, turning bright pink.  Nick had turned bright red, as well.  

They both sat there and processed what Isaac had said.  Charlie sat and thought about everything that had happened over the past few hours, both supernatural and not-so-supernatural.  The night had truly been momentous in both regards, it was almost difficult to wrap his brain around how much had actually taken place.  Mentally rewinding things, Charlie came back to what happened at the party, before the necromancer attacked, and gasped a bit.  

“What, Char?”  Nick asked, surprised by the break in silence. 

“You came out to an entire room of people,” he said, quietly, staring into Nick’s eyes, scanning them to detect any discomfort or fear.  

“Oh.  Y-yeah.  I suppose I did,” he said, as if he too had completely forgotten it had happened.  

“How are you feeling about that?” Charlie asked. 

“Uh…okay, I think,” Nick replied.  Charlie continued to stare intently in his eyes, half expecting him to lose his nerve, to break down a bit.  

“You sure?” he asked, almost as if he did not quite believe Nick.  Nick paused for a few seconds before he replied.

“Do you think everyone will know at school, come September?  I mean, what are the chances?” he pondered aloud.  Charlie just stood there, staring, surprised how relatively unbothered Nick appeared.  He reached up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.  

“Yeah, probably.  There’s 0% chance that people aren’t already talking about it,” Charlie said.

“I think I can handle that.  I mean, if I’m being honest, I am nervous about it, but I’m okay.  I guess…from what you said a few weeks ago, are you feeling okay about it?  About us being out?”  he asked, his voice laden with concern as he brought back up their prior conversation in the sports shed.  

“At the time…I was scared.  I was scared of having to deal with homophobia, full blast, yet again,” Charlie said, pulling off the hoodie he had on from earlier.  He got up and went over to his suitcase, rifling through it looking for another shirt and pair of sleeper shorts to wear, slipping the remnants of the Ophidian Amulet into his suitcase along with his old clothes.  “I was afraid of all of the attention being put on me…again, but…” he trailed off, thinking about it all.  

He still was afraid, and he knew that Nick knew that.  This was different, though.  Last year, he had no prospects whatsoever, romantically speaking.  He had his friends, of course, but they did not really have to experience what he experienced, and while their support made all the difference, it just was not the same.  That was different now.  He had Nick, and Nick had him.  

“But…we’ll be okay?” Nick finished for him, almost as if he could read Charlie’s mind.  Charlie pulled on his new shirt and shorts, completely unabashedly.  Nick blushed profusely.  

“Yeah.” is all he said, before turning and flopping down onto the nearest bed.  “Since we have the room to ourselves tonight…we can definitely share this bed.”  He knew he was blushing profusely at his sudden turn of suggestive conversation.  

“Well…you’ll just have to move, because you’re on my side of the bed,” Nick replied.  

He went to jump right on Charlie, who wormed his way out instinctively, sitting himself on top of Nick, who sat up as if to kiss him.  Charlie prepared himself to receive those lips, only to be smacked with a pillow instead.   An impromptu pillow fight broke out, lasting for several minutes, the two of them tussling back and forth, rolling around over each other, flailing with pillows flying and being pressed against one another.  The fight eventually ended with Charlie hoisting himself back on top of Nick’s lap, pulling Nick up to face him.  

“Do I win?” he asked, grinning lovingly, his face flushed pink from the tussle and most definitely the situation in which the two found themselves.  Without a second to waste, the snogging commenced, the two of them connected by their mouths for several minutes before Charlie started peeling away, kissing down to Nick’s neck.

“Payback,” he said in reference to the love bite, giggling.  Nick, apparently, was completely unprepared for such action on his neck, as immediately he got incredibly flustered.  The feelings must have been overwhelming for Nick, the pleasurable sensations just a bit too much, as he started to shake, his face, neck, and arms all pink to bright red.  “Uh…are you okay?”  

“I…uh…sorry, but could we…no, no, I like it, but I just…” Nick spluttered out, completely unable to function normally.  Wow, Charlie had really short-circuited him, which was the opposite to what usually happened.  

“Nick, it’s okay!  Don’t worry!”  Charlie replied, pulling back and putting his hands on Nick’s face, staring into his eyes intently.  “It really is okay.”  

“I…well, I guess I’m just not ready to do anything more than kissing yet,” Nick spluttered out.  Charlie turned crimson.  Wait, he thought…he thought what ?

“More…more than kissing?” Charlie asked, dumbstruck.  “Oh my gosh…I…I didn’t think we were going to do that right now!  I mean, Romance in Paris aside, but…I wasn’t going to…”

“Oh,” Nick said, letting out a little sigh.  Charlie got himself off of Nick’s lap, gently.  He could tell why Nick was worried about such a thing at that given moment.  Charlie made a mental note.  Neck kisses on Nicholas Luke Nelson, highly effective .  

They both turned to each other at the same time and said, “I do want to.”

“Eventually,” Charlie ended with.  

“Yeah, same!” replied Nick.  “I’m just not…ready yet.”  

“No, me neither!” Charlie added in, quickly.  “And I’d only want to if you wanted to as well.”  

They sat there for a minute, laughing at themselves and their knack of awkwardly flopping various romantic moments to discuss incredibly deep and vulnerable topics.  

“Why are we like this?” Charlie asked, burying his face in his hands as he scrunched in next to Nick. 

“No idea,” Nick replied, laughing softly.  

At that point, they decided that kissing and cuddling until they passed out was the best way forward with the evening, and they were not the only ones.  Down the hall, Nathan Ajayi and Youssef Farouk cuddled in bed, having consummated their mutual pining and attraction earlier in the evening.  They had been so focused on each other that they completely missed the events of the party.  No one had knocked on their door, either.  Darcy Olsson and Tara Jones were spooning in bed, snoozing blissfully, Tara dreaming about croissants, and Darcy dreaming about manifesting the cutest jewelry for her beloved girlfriend.  Isaac Henderson and Sahar Zahid had made a blanket fort to read into the night, but at that point, Sahar had completely passed out, book in hand, and Isaac had decided to listen to a relaxing podcast.  Tao Xu and Elle Argent were still up, cuddling and laughing in bed.  After Isaac had assured them that everything was okay, they decided to watch TikToks to unwind.  It has worked magically, as they had been laughing on and off for at least thirty minutes now.  Further down the hall, Imogen Heaney sat up in bed, surrounded by her “friends” from Higgs, each of whom she had begun to resent immensely for being legitimately awful people.  She would be making some changes over the summer and the following school year to address that.

The next morning, they filed onto the coach back to the UK, each of them struggling immensely with fatigue, yet overjoyed.  A student in year 10 came up to Nick and Charlie, inquiring as to whether or not they were dating.  Upon confirmation, all he could reply was how cool he thought it was. 

“Evidently, I’m cool now,” Charlie said.  

“Pfff…nah.  You’ll always be a nerd,” Nick replied, smirking at him.  

“And to think…this all happened because you gave me a love bite,” Charlie replied, poking Nick in the face playfully. 

“I’m still sorry about that,” Nick replied sheepishly.  

They spent the next few minutes arguing over whether or not they would become social media official, with Nick faux-cringey begging for Charlie to put his initials next to a heart in Charlie’s Instagram bio.  Charlie sighed and told him he would put the two men hand-holding emoji in as a compromise.  At some point, Charlie dozed off entirely, leaning on Nick’s shoulder for a pillow.  

Nick pulled up his phone’s internet browser, and tapped into the search bar, “How to tell someone you love them.”  

Little did he know that Charlie would wake up in an hour, notice that Nick had dozed off, and type the exact same thing into his phone.

Chapter Text

A solid 72 hour recovery window was necessary post-Paris trip for everyone to get their bearings back, including the adults.  After 24 hours in a Paris hospital, Julio Spring had returned home, hands bandaged from his burns.  When the friend group had enthusiastically clamored for a reunion meeting, Charlie could not agree faster to have one, somewhere far away from his house.  His parents had argued several times since his father’s return from Paris, mostly about the burns and the bandages.  Jane Spring was not buying his father’s excuse about an accident involving fryer oil at a Parisian food stall.  Charlie honestly could not blame her – his burns were so symmetrical and uniform, and his story had sounded completely unconvincing.  Tori also had to flee the house.  She had confided in Charlie that they had figured out her powers, which Charlie felt had fit her so well, in an ironic fashion.  She was always trying so hard not to feel for other people, since they irritated her so much, but now she would have to partake in their emotional journeys.  She even admitted that the only reason their father showed up in Paris was because she felt Charlie’s anxiety attack in the Louvre.  He understood why she left the house now.  It must be positively unbearable around the parents, more so than usual, and adding his post-trip anxiety into the mix must really be the cherry on top of it all. 

The purpose of the Paris Squad meeting was multifold – one, to finally include Sahar, who the group was convinced really picked up on the weirdest of vibes surrounding the whole endeavor, and two, to relay the events of the last night, including Darcy’s involvement.  Darcy had texted Charlie separately to inform him that she was ready to do that, as trying to keep her powers hidden from Tara felt like torture.  Charlie understood.  They picked the park as their meeting place, but off of the normal pathways some, in a shaded, more secluded area away from prying eyes and ears.  Nick brought some picnic blankets with him for the occasion, and a basket of baked goods - blueberry muffins, mixed fruit tartlets, and in a nod to Paris, pain au chocolat.  Charlie could tell this had stressed him beyond belief, as his baking habits amplified proportionally in response to stress.  Mrs. Nelson’s grocery budget must have been broken beyond repair at this point.  Charlie looked on as his friends arrived, one-by-one, or even in pairs as couples, including one surprise.  Sahar had brought Imogen, and they were sheepishly holding hands.  He and Nick glanced at each other.  At that point, they had collectively queued up enough secrets and surprises to exchange, it almost felt too overwhelming to even consider.  Nick squeezed his hand gently, knowingly aware of that bubbling internal consternation.  

“Hello my favorite Parisian peeps,” Imogen said, swankily walking herself over to the picnic blanket.  “Ohmygosh look at this spread!  Nicholas, why on Earth are you stress baking?” her voice suddenly got quite serious.  

“Nick stress bakes?” Sahar said, looking at Imogen curiously, reaching for a blueberry muffin to take a taste.  “Mmm.  Definitely can taste the stress in these.  Sweet and stressful.”  Nick laughed slightly at her teasing.  Where had Sahar got the confidence to break the tension like that?  

Charlie took a deep breath, considering the next steps.  He did not completely trust Imogen, but he also did not distrust her.  He glanced at Darcy, who shrugged.  Nick gave him a bit of a nod, as if he was okay with things.  If Nick could trust her, then who was he to doubt her?  

“We are here to discuss the events of Tara’s birthday party,” Charlie said, quietly.  Everyone suddenly tensed up around him, including Sahar and Imogen.  Imogen turned and nodded at Sahar.  

“See…I knew it wasn’t a gas leak,” she said, narrowing her eyes a bit and scrunching her face up.  Sahar just nodded in response.  “What was it, then?”  

“What makes you so convinced?” Charlie asked, astonished at how confident they seemed in such an assertion.  

Sahar just laughed.  “No one talks about grapefruit that much, Charlie Spring,” she said.  “No one.  I swore I heard pamplemousse more than any other French word on the entire trip.” 

Charlie caught himself half-coughing, half-choking on a sip of water that he had just taken.  Nick turned bright pink.  Isaac’s eyes were a bit wide, and Tao bit his lip nervously.  Darcy smiled awkwardly.  Tara and Elle successfully pulled poker faces, completely devoid of emotion.  

“So, what did you all do?  Ransack the hotel’s circuit box for fun?  Sneak in a fog machine?  I’m just lost at the point of it,” Imogen said, shrugging her shoulders.  “Like…did you two go on some super secret sexy Paris date and that was all just a distraction?”

“Imogen, Sahar…what would your initial reaction be if I told you that magic exists?” Nick asked innocently.  

“Is that a joke, Nicholas?”  Imogen replied, frowning slightly.  

She did not appear to like where this was going, or at least felt that she knew Nick well enough to think that he was teasing her.  Sahar on the other hand, shifted slightly at that question, not in an uneasy way, but in a way showing intrigue.  Her body language had immediately become more confident.  Isaac’s ebook and audiobook references on the last few days of the Paris trip were all Fiction, fantasy to be exact.  Each of them had elements of magic in them, star-crossed lovers, and evil magical entities.  It was as if he had been trying to tell her something, to include her, without breaking some sort of code or promise.  If that was the case, she was incredibly invested at this point.  

“Show me that it exists, Nick,” Sahar replied.  “Since your question implies that you have proof that it does, or something of that nature.”  She eyed him intensely, scrutinizing his face for any sign of breaking character.  

Nick held out his hand, his palm facing up, and released sparks of fae-fire, a gentle glow of pink, purple, and blue light gracing their presence with warmth.  Imogen stared intensely, at a loss, her breathing almost non-existent.  Sahar looked on with a combination of curiosity and surprise. Neither one of them could seem to get anything out, vocally.  

“We didn’t want to hide it from you, but the others…let’s just say, it was discovered due to a series of unfortunate happenings.  But we wanted you two to enjoy your trip as fully as possible, without the burden of this knowledge,” Nick said, softly, trying his best to explain the group’s earlier decision.  

“I see,” Sahar replied.  Imogen nodded her head, staring blankly ahead.   After a few silent moments, Imogen added on to that.  

“Thank you.  That was actually…well intentioned. But why now?” she asked.  

Tara jumped in unexpectedly.  “We like you two, silly!  We sort of got the sense that you weren’t happy with those other girls, too,” she said, nodding her head at Imogen.  Darcy nodded along with what Tara said. 

“My gay intuition also sensed there was something else going on underneath it all, too,” Darcy said, winking at the both of them, who turned bright red.  

“About that…” Imogen started to say, before Tara interrupted her. 

“Don’t feel any sort of rush to explain.  All of us know that you both have the right to explore and figure yourselves out without needing to define it all or label it.”

Sahar and Imogen giggled and blushed slightly, nodding their heads in agreement.  

“Is this some sort of Queer Coven then?” Sahar asked, sounding quite amused.  Charlie snorted.  

“Well I suppose you could call it that.  Maybe a worthwhile group chat name?” he mused.  

Imogen suddenly perked back up.  “That actually sounds cute.  For clarification though…do we all have sparkly light like Nicholas here?”  she asked.  

Nick laughed.  “I’m part fairie, Imogen.  That’s my fae-fire.  And no, Charlie’s got visions.  Precognition, I think it is technically called,” he replied.  

Sahar and Imogen practically squealed.  “Fairy?  Are you serious?  Please tell me you have wings,” Imogen said, giggling.  Nick blushed crimson as everyone else started breaking out in laughter.  

“Oh my god that would be a vision to see,” Charlie replied, still trying to catch his breath.  Nick looked mildly annoyed.  

“Ha ha.  Maybe I do, and I haven’t found them yet?  I mean, the actual fae of the glade here have wings…”  

Everyone in the circle screamed “WHAT” at exactly the same time.

“I’m sorry, they moved out after the shadow demon incident,” he said meekly.  

“WHAT?!” 

“Oh my gosh, Nick, you idiot.  We are supposed to talk about the party events, not that stuff.  Well, not yet.  And perhaps we need to protect the innocence of the demonically possessed?”

“WHAT?!?!”  

Both Nick and Charlie were laughing profusely at that point, their friends completely in various states of surprise and shock.  They would not actually end up telling them a whole lot about what happened with Harry and the fairy glade.  Something about the first demon they defeated together as a couple felt like a sacred thing that should not be shared. 

“Okay, we can shelve that for later, but can we please get back to why my birthday party was ruined by a necromancer?”  Tara asked, the frustration in her voice present.  Sahar and Imogen both looked at her with a bit of confusion, and Sahar with some legitimate fear.  One of Isaac’s book recommendations also had involved necromancy, and she had been able to actually read that one. 

Darcy raised her hand a bit.  “That was…my fault,” she said apprehensively.  Tara turned to her, looking utterly confused.  

As a demonstration, Darcy held out her hand, similarly to what Nick had done earlier.  

“Tara…name a dessert you would like right now, besides the delightful baked goods that Nick has prepared for us,” she said.   Tara stopped to think for a second, smiling at her thought.

“I want mint chocolate chip ice cream, specifically from that really cute ice cream shop that we went to for several dates,” she replied, confidently.   

Darcy smiled, nodding.  That ice cream shop’s cups were particularly unique, and she could picture them vividly.  She closed her eyes, centered her mind on the cup, cycled through her memories of the shop’s mint chocolate chip ice cream, the particular green color of the ice cream, not bright enough to confuse it with pistachio, but a minty green to distinguish it from vanilla chocolate chip.  The taste of the mint came to her, almost as if she was enjoying a spoonful at that moment.  Darcy took a deep breath, focusing on all of those sensations, the memories.  Before she knew it, a small flash of pinkish-orange tinged light and a popping sound had signaled the arrival of a medium cup of mint chocolate ice cream, followed by a small gasp.  

“Darcy!  You are…magical?” Tara asked, shocked.  

“Jonesy…apparently I am.  How do you think I got the party vodka?  Shoplifting?”  Darcy replied, smiling at her girlfriend as she handed over the cup of ice cream.  

“Wait, it's actually edible?”  Imogen asked, surprised.  Tara took a scoop and put it in her mouth hesitantly, nodding.  

“The exact flavor from the exact shop, too,” she said surreally, lifting her eyes up to Darcy’s.  They were dewy.  She left forward and gave Darcy a big kiss, hugging her.   “You still haven’t explained how that involves the necromancer.”  

Nick cleared his throat a little bit.  Darcy nodded to him to continue for her.  

“Let’s just say…they made Darcy use her power to summon an artifact that could control and power the dead,” he said, quietly.  

Charlie nodded along with Nick’s assessment of the situation.  “And then we got lucky and both Nick’s dad and my dad showed up to help us.  Not sure how things would have gone without them,” he said glumly.  

Darcy nodded.  “Charlie’s dad was so fucking cool.  He quite literally incinerated the necromancer.  Like properly incinerated them.”   Charlie laughed and blushed.  No one had ever called his dad cool before.  

He and Nick took turns explaining the events of the night, from breaking into the crypt, to opening the secret door underneath it.  Nick was adamant that he explain the corpse monstrosity.  Darcy made sure to talk about how many skeletons she destroyed with her sledgehammer, but she especially raved about how she summoned the amulet away from the necromancer, which earned her several cheers from the group.  Charlie gushed about Nick’s rugby arms and how he had beheaded the undead with fae-fire.  Their friends asked occasional questions, but mostly listened intently, stuffing their faces with baked goods.  Charlie could tell it was stress eating for some of them.  

“This feels much better, having it recounted and out in the open to friends.  Almost like…coming out in a sense?”  Nick said after they had finished the story.  

“But to be clear…no one beyond this circle hears a peep about this, ever,” Charlie said sternly. Everyone nodded in agreement. 

Darcy, who had been thinking quietly for a bit, suddenly perked up.  “You know…officially, I do really like the name “Queer Coven,” but for the sake of extra secrecy…let’s just make the group chat title “Paris Squad,” she said, musing.  “That’s also pretty cool.  Paris Squad.  Secret subtitle, the Queerest of Covens.”   Everyone in the group hooted, cheering for the Paris Squad, and laughed happily.  

Charlie looked out across his group of friends.  A year ago, he had just a small group of confidantes.  Now he was surrounded by a vibrant group of people who had so much joy and brought so much love and light to his life.  People happily chatted and snacked around him, giving him a moment to quietly reflect on such things.  Whatever the future held, it was now even more uncertain in some senses than it had been a month ago.  His parents were now locked in a battle that Charlie knew would inevitably end with his father telling his mother about magic; he also knew it would not go the way it did with his friend group.  Through life experience, almost all of them had to go out of their comfort zones, sometimes regularly.  They were required to take leaps of faith, to work to accept themselves and others like them.  Magic was just one more thing to fit into that queer framework.  His mother had no such outlook on life, and Charlie knew it would go incredibly poorly.

Nick had heard nothing from his father since returning from Paris.  Nick had chalked it up to his dad taking a few days off to rest, given how the battle had worn him out and left him with a literal battle scar.  Charlie was worried about what had happened to Mr. Nelson, but even more so, he worried about Nick’s fledgling re-ignition of his relationship with his dad.  If he disappeared again, what would that do to Nick? Disappointment was not a new feeling for him, but after sharing those moments with his father in that battle, Charlie was certain that the hurt would be exponentially more difficult to cope with this time around.  It pained him to even think about that happening to Nick, so much so that he must have made quite the contorted face.  

“Char…do you have a stomach ache or something?” Nick asked, putting his hand on Charlie’s shoulder.  

“No. Not really…I’m just…I’m pondering the future and the unknowns,” he replied quietly, leaning his shoulder into Nick’s.   Nick nodded his head, humming.  He knew that such pondering also carried heavy, anxious feelings with it.

“Well…I can help eliminate one unknown from that,” he said softly, tilting his head to a resting position on Charlie’s.  

“And what’s that, Nicholas Luke Nelson?” Charlie replied.

“Me, Char.  You can always count on me to be there,” he said, his voice soft and warm.  No one else had noticed them softly chatting away.  It felt like they were on their own island, despite the raucous laughter and joy around them.  

“Do you promise, Nick?”  

“I promise, Charles Francis Spring.  I promise.” 

Chapter Text

The First paragraph(s) and last paragraph(s) of Ch1 of Springcaster, Volume 3:  The Life That Haunts Before (working title, but honestly given what I know to be plot points, I'm liking it.)

The beginning: 

3rd Century CE, Roman Britain

West of Durobrivae (Roman Rochester), upon the River Darent

Livia Desticius Juba descended the banks of the River Darent in the early afternoon hours of a bright, warm August day.  The clear waters shone brightly in the high sun, sparkling, light reflecting onto Livia’s bare, lightly-olive skin.  She loosened her bright auburn hair from its pins and clasps; her maidens would have to reconfigure it for tonight’s event anyway, so why not wash away the stenches of Londinium that soaked in from the previous few weeks?  Lowering herself in the cool waters, her thoughts wandered to the past and to the future.  Her father’s installation of Provincial Governor had sent her away from Italy, away from Rome, away from her lover, Claudius.  She thought it had been incredibly intentional, as he definitely felt nothing but ill will toward Claudius.  Not that her father was not important.  Titus Desticius Juba rose from semi-humble beginnings in northern Italy, only to end up with senatorial legates and legions serving him.  He could have asked for Gaul or Dalmatia, both in need of governors in the next few years, but no!  Britannia?  That was intentional. 

X numbers of paragraphs in between...

The end:

On those words, Livia shifted laterally, taking off at breakneck pace, hoping to outrun the man.  She was fast, and expected him to be too.  Brigid screamed after her, hoping to distract the man and draw attention to the whole fiasco with the hopes that regular soldiers would intervene and spare her life.  No such luck.  Carolus grabbed hold of Livia, who struggled, slashing her nails at him, cursing him.  He made good on his promise to Livia’s father, drawing out a dagger.  She screamed out for Lord Cernunnos, hoping he would hear her plea for safety, for protection, for help.  

Just as Carolus brought the dagger down to pierce her, Charlie Spring woke up, launching himself upright, completely dazed and completely shocked.  It was 1:45 PM, in early August, the day before he would go to the beach with his friends for a nice reunion of the Paris Squad, who had not seen each other since their park meeting in mid-July.  He blinked a few times, thinking about the dream he had seen.  For so long, he had felt omniscient, like a narrator seeing everything around him, understanding the reactions of everyone, but at the last scene of it all, suddenly that had stopped.  Suddenly, like his visions, he had been operating from the first person point of view, driving a dagger right into that woman.  Flopping back down into bed, unceremoniously, he groaned.  

“Not this shit again,” he muttered under his breath.  “Not now, of all times.  Not. Now.”