Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hey, Kassim.”

Kassim glanced up blearily from the screen he’d been focusing on, his gold hair falling out of its ponytail into his face. The computer light glinted off his gold eyes, bright and shining even behind the curling cigarette smoke hanging around his head. “Hm?”

Scourge leaned against the door to the jackals' office, swirling his coffee slowly. He didn’t want to barge in and scare Kassim into his natural defensive mode. “Mephiles and I are planning a family vacation. Are you free next week?”

“I’m just working on a paper right now. No digs coming up.” Kassim exhaled smoke, leaning back in his chair with a shrug. “I can work on it when you and Mephiles take Tempest to do a family activity if you don’t need me.”

“Kassim.” Scourge sighed, pinching between his eyes. For someone so smart, Kassim could be dense as fuck sometimes. “It’s a family vacation.”

“What?”

“That includes you. On vacation.”

Kassim’s big ears flicked up in surprise. “Oh. Uh…”

Scourge suppressed an eye roll. Kassim had been living with them for four whole years. You’d think he’d get it through his head that he counted as part of the family by now. They had officially adopted him as a pet for their son instead of hiring him as a nanny like a normal family might. Putting in that kind of effort should count for something. Did he think they did that for just anyone? Tempest had promised to be a good pet owner—something he diligently kept up with, even now that he sort of seemed to understand that Kassim wasn't a Chao. He made sure Kassim ate and took him for “walkies,” often roping in his two delinquent friends from school. Only family members would get that kind of excellent treatment.

“So…?” Scourge asked pointedly, raising his eyebrows.

Kassim took a drag of his cigarette and shrugged, eyeing him warily. “Then I can just put the paper on hold. And…not work on it…on…vacation.”

“That’s the spirit!” Scourge swung his closed fist across his body, grinning. He was going to drag Kassim into having fun if it killed him—it wasn’t like he’d stay dead anyway. It would build character.

“Where are—we—going?” Kassim asked haltingly, discomfort twisting his expression.

“Mephiles wants to go check out a famous winery.” Scourge shrugged. “Can’t remember the name right now, but it’s supposed to be one of the best in the world.”

Kassim’s discomfort turned into disgust. “I don’t drink wine.”

“Don’t worry!” Scourge waved his fears off, wishing he could pry into whatever made him take that tone. But Kassim didn’t talk about his past unless you really put the screws to him and he was feeling nice today. “It’s not like we’re going to make you drink it. Hell, I’ll even buy you a couple bottles of that whisky you like and you can have that instead.”

Kassim blinked at him again, clearly confused. “But—it's a winery? Aren't you going to ask me to taste it with you?”

“Not if you don't want to. Mephiles is enough of a connoisseur for everyone.” Scourge snorted and shrugged. “And it’s not like we're forcing Tempest to become a wine snob at nine so you'll be in good company.”

“O…kay…”

“Great. We can talk about it more at dinner.”

“Why didn’t you just bring this up at dinner?” Kassim called after him, his usual annoyance replacing confusion. Good. Scourge found it kind if endearing when the jackal snapped at him. He was bad tempered by default. If he was snapping at Scourge, he was usually doing alright. It was when he wasn't that there was cause for concern. Besides, most of Scourge's favorite people tended to yell at him as he left the room.

With that task done, Scourge hummed to himself and made his way out of the space dedicated for Kassim to hide in in the Iblis building. It had once been one of the bigger corner offices that Mephiles had vacated for corporate betrayal and had been all too happy to renovate for the jackal when they'd brought him here. Kassim didn't like big windows, so they'd bricked up most of them and lined the space with bookshelves, display cases, and dark furniture to match his suite upstairs. The only downside was that sometimes he lost himself in work and didn't come out for days, unless Tempest pried him out.

This vacation would be good for him. The only vacation Scourge had seen him take in the time he'd lived with them, he'd gone to spend a weekend with his boyfriend and come back far from relaxed and with a bullet hole in him. He'd never been on vacation with them. Every time they'd tried to get him on one, he'd had to skip for work. Not this time. Scourge had the whole day now to bug Mephiles and wait for Tempest to come home from school and start really planning things now that Kassim was on board. No beaches, no curses, no monsters. It was going to be great.

“You look very proud of yourself,” Mephiles commented with dry amusement when he delivered his afternoon coffee with a kiss. “Successfully bully Kassim into coming with us?”

“I'm hurt you don't think I could use my amazing oral skills to convince him nicely.”

Mephiles arched a brow. “Your oral skills are much better put to work on me, pet.”

“Oh fuck you, you know what I meant. Besides, Kassim is wound way to tight around whatever fucked up games he and Goth play to even consider it.” Scourge rolled his eyes and settled onto Mephiles's lap anyway. He was feeling good today. His infuriating husband could get a little treat.

“Mn. I do know what you meant,” Mephiles smiled, snaking his arms around Scourge's waist, “but I would prefer to use your slip up for my own gain.”

“I'm supposed to be above your petty corporate schemes.” Scourge grinned, grabbing his husband's face and kissing him hard. The void that was Mephiles's mouth opened to him, the oozing, smokey mass invading his own. Mephiles's claws slipped down to squeeze his ass. Scourge moaned into the void, the sound oddly muted, digging his fingers into Mephiles’s skin under his fake fur and trying to find a way to get even closer, grinding their cocks together.

“Are there are afternoon meetings I should be worried about interrupting us?” Mephiles murmured against his mouth, claws digging into his legs under his ass.

“Not today.” Scourge grinned, sliding his fingers under Mephiles's lapels. “And Tempest won't be home for hours.”

“Mmm. Then should we take this upstairs?”

“Like the sound of that.”

Mephiles chuckled, rising effortlessly, Scourge still straddling his waist and clinging to his shoulders. “It's a shame you're also my assistant, pet. I would love to turn to my assistant and say ‘Cancel my meetings! I need to make love to my husband!’”

“Make love. Pff.” Scourge rolled his eyes. Mephiles rolled his eyes back.

“Well, in this fake scenario, I wouldn't tell my assistant that I need to fuck my husband's brains out. Luckily, in reality, my assistant is my husband and I need to fuck his brains out.”

“Damn straight you do,” Scourge laughed. “I'm your husband first, assistant second.”

“Noted.” Mephiles carried him to the elevator and nuzzled his ear as he rolled his fur disguise off, leaving his gleaming purple skin and white crystals in place. “Although I would fuck you either way.”

“'Cause I'm very pretty.”

“Indeed. You are also very good at keeping my calendar.”

Scourge started undoing Mephiles's tie, squeezing harder with his legs to stay upright, earning him a grunt of amusement. “Even after all these years?”

“Well, in all these years, you have rarely ever scheduled a nine o'clock meeting, so yes.” Mephiles chuckled, still carrying him to their bedroom after stepping out of the elevator. “And you've lasted much longer than my other assistants.”

“Gives me something to do. Can you imagine me as a house husband?”

Something glimmered in Mephiles's eyes. “Yes, but not in a useful way.”

Scourge barked out a laugh, twisting Mephiles onto his back on the bed, straddling him.

“Oh yeah? Visions of me in a maid costume dancing before your eyes?”

“I wouldn't say no.” Mephiles ran his hands up his thighs and over his hips to unclip his suspenders. They snapped up and over his shoulders as if they'd been waiting for the release as much as Scourge had.

Scourge leaned over him, pulling his tie off and tossing it over his shoulder. “Only if you buy me a really nice one that makes my fur look good, boss.”

“Your fur looks good in anything, pet. But especially in nothing but my collar.”

“Aw, you say the nicest things.” Scourge took the hint and rolled off him to go get the collar from its place in his top drawer. He made a show for Mephiles, shrugging his shirt off and letting it drop to the floor.

“I hate it when you tease me,” Mephiles moaned, breathy.

“I know.” Scourge grinned over his shoulder, shimmying slowly out of his pants and kicking them off giving Mephiles a good view of his ass, balls, and cock. Mephiles let out a strangled groan.

Finally, Scourge plucked the collar up, sauntering over to his husband and dangling it on one finger over his nose.

“Do you want to do the honors?”

“I want to do more than that,” Mephiles muttered, levering himself up and grabbing the collar and his wrist in one smooth motion, swinging Scourge around and switching their positions, landing heavily on top with a grin.

“No fair!” Scourge panted, wriggling under him, making sure to rub hard against Mephiles's cock under his trousers.

“All’s fair in love and sex, Scourge,” Mephiles chuckled, sliding the collar around Scourge's neck. The thick, soft leather tightening around his throat almost made him come then and there. He loved wearing the collar as much as Mephiles loved putting it on him. His eyes rolled back and he arched into Mephiles as the metal buckle snapped in place.

“Take your fucking clothes off or I'm going to rip them off.”

“And here I thought you liked this suit.”

“Not enough to be nice.”

"Someday, I will find a suit you like enough to keep from destroying," Mephiles laughed, running his claws through the fur on Scourge's chest before straightening and shrugging his suit jacket off, pinning Scourge under his thighs, taking his time like Scourge had. Scourge growled.

“Never! Your suits are all in danger. And you can't tease me back! You wear way more clothes!”

“Oh? It appears I do.” Mephiles laughed again, darker this time. He flicked his cuff-links off languidly before getting to his vest.

“If you lose those, Tempest will be sad,” Scourge moaned, consumed by Mephiles's shoulders as he finally rolled his button down off and tossed it to the floor with everything else. How dare he be so much taller than Scourge? He couldn't even lever himself up to grab him down to him.

“Is that what teasing you gets me?” Mephiles leaned down to rub his nose along Scourge's face. “Concern for my cuff-links? You're slipping, pet.”

“Not yet I'm not.”

Mephiles gave his cock a long stroke, claws coming away glistening with precome. “Almost.”

Scourge groaned in exasperation. Mephiles pulled away to finally get rid of his pants and get the lube from the bedside drawer. Scourge was tempted to flip him again, but Mephiles moved faster than his brain today, slicking his fingers and plunging them deep.

“Fuck!” Scourge opened to him immediately, relaxing against his fingers and letting him play a little. Mephiles stretched his asshole and pumped his fingers in and out a few times. Scourge rolled his hips against his hand, trying to get him to hit that perfect spot. Mephiles knew exactly where it was—he was still teasing him, the bastard.

“You're the worst,” he hissed. Mephiles added a third finger and finally hooked them just right. Pleasure spiked up Scourge's spine. “Ah!”

“The worst, am I?” Mephiles hooked a free finger through the metal loop in the collar, pulling it hard enough to arch Scourge's body up. He used the awkward angle to drive his fingers even deeper.

“The! Worst!” Scourge panted and writhed and Mephiles laughed, dropping him again. He landed with a little whuf. Mephiles slid his fingers out, replacing them with his cock, bracing himself above Scourge and pressing in slowly. Scourge growled, locking his legs around his hips and arms around his shoulders, using his own strength to force Mephiles's cock deeper. Mephiles grunted in surprise and Scourge followed through on flipping them.

“So impatient,” Mephiles laughed as Scourge braced himself on his chest. “You would think I never fuck you.”

“You can't be trusted to give me what I want today.” Scourge grinned, fucking himself deep and hard on the crystal hedgehog's cock. Mephiles growled lovingly, grabbing his thighs and squeezing, meeting his ass with his hips. Scourge threw his head back and lost himself to the pleasure, one hand trailing up his chest to tease his nipples and run over the scars. Mephiles loved his scars. He tipped back down at Mephiles's rumbling purr that meant he was close to coming.

“Scream for me, boss.”

Mephiles growled, claws digging into the meat of his thighs and then did as he was told when Scourge rolled his hips again.

“Scourge!”

Scourge gasped and writhed as Mephiles finished and let out a barking yelp as Mephiles fisted his cock to push him over the edge too. It should have taken him a few expert strokes, but he took his time as he came down from his own release instead.

“You—you're still teasing me, you ah—asshole!” Scourge laughed breathlessly.

“Guilty as charged.”

Mephiles finally built his pleasure to breaking point as he flipped them over again and pulled out. Scourge arched up against him as he came with a cry. Mephiles let him go and rolled over to lie on his back next to him with a contented sigh. Scourge snuggled in closer and ran his finger down Mephiles’s chest, playing with the soft crystal fur there.

“This was a terrible idea.”

“Oh? And here I thought it was brilliant. Much better than emails.”

“Sure. But now I just want to get some takeout and laze around the rest of the day.”

“We still have time to do that. The lazing, at least. I think I would prefer to eat something else this afternoon.” Mephiles inhaled deeply and opened his eyes, eyeing Scourge.

Scourge propped himself up, grinning. "Mm, but what will fuel my blowjobs?"

"Fine, you may order something that will do that if it'll keep you with me longer."

Scourge wasn't actually hungry yet. He draped himself over Mephiles's chest, nibbling his skin a bit. Mephiles snorted, smacking his ass. Scourge let out an involuntary squeak.

“Oh no you don't. I need a shower before I can go again.”

“Whiny.” Scourge stretched and rolled, arching backward over Mephiles's chest, making sure to show off his scars and the collar. Mephiles smiled, eyes glowing, hooking a claw through the metal loop and pulling him in for a kiss,  other hand running over the scars.

“My beautiful, handsome man.”

Scourge grabbed his face and grinned, nuzzling his muzzle. “And you're my gorgeous monster.”

Mephiles grinned, pulling him up off the bed by the collar and dragging him into the bathroom. Scourge paused in the doorway after he let him go to turn on the shower, admiring the shine of his husband's purple, crystalline skin and bright white crystal quills.

“I love you.”

Mephiles smiled over his shoulder. “I love you, too.”

Scourge pulled the collar off and slipped into the shower with him, licking his lips, determined to keep him there all afternoon.

Bonus Art

Chapter Text

“What the fuck is this?” Kassim growled around his cigarette, squinting at the brochure in his hands.

Gallows Hill Winery

“You've got to be joking.”

He'd gotten home from his little corner office to find Tempest trying his hand at a simple pasta recipe from his battered cookbook and Scourge and Mephiles already discussing the vacation plans. Tempest was doing an admirable job following the recipe, the rich, heavy smell of tomatoes, oil, and garlic reminding Kassim he hadn't eaten since lunch the previous day. After helping Tempest finish the sauce and place the plates on the table, Scourge handed him the brochure to look over while they ate.

“They've got some of the highest rated wine in the world,” Mephiles said mildly. “I'm hoping to get my hands on one of their rare and exceptional bottles.”

Kassim hated wine. Ever since he'd been transformed into the Vessel of the Old God the Speaker of the Dead, it made him sick. Even so, his murderous and abusive ex boyfriend had always forced him to drink it, needless of the pain it caused. The idea of visiting a winery brought up unpleasant memories of Cal threatening to take him to one. But this wasnt the apartment in Sunset City. The people around him weren't Cal. Seeing Tempest excited about the whole thing helped soothe his nerves. Tempest was safe, and by extension, so were his parents. Scourge had even said he wouldn't be forced to drink the wine. No reason to think he was lying, no matter what his anxiety told him.

“Gallows Hill is a ghoulish name for a winery.” Kassim flipped through the brochure again, managing a bit of pasta. It described the unique attributes of the vineyard, which included the fact that hundreds of prisoners were executed and buried on the hill that the winery now sat on. The brochure even contributed the morbid history to the unique composition of the soil around the hill, adding to the rich and unique flavor profile of the wines. Like that was actually true. All wine tasted the same. Or maybe that was just his half dead body talking. Kassim wanted to be surprised that this was the winery they were visiting, but he'd lived with Mephiles long enough to see how the dead bodies in the ground alone would draw him to it.

“Your favorite whisky is called Glass Calavera,” Scourge pointed out. “How's that different?”

Kassim opened his mouth to argue that his whisky wasn't made from corn grown on corpse soil but had to snap it shut when he realized he didn't know that for a fact. That would be something his boyfriend, Goth, would relish just as much as Mephiles. Oh gods, had he been drinking corpse whisky this whole time?

“I…need to make a call…”

“Later, babe. You can fight with your boyfriend after dinner.” Scourge shrugged, waving him down from getting up.

“Wouldn't the grapes have broken down the bodies years ago anyway?” Tempest asked, scrunching his muzzle.

“Yes, love.” Mephiles nodded. “I'm sure now it's just part of their promotional material. And look, Kassim, there's an historical hike around the vineyard and neighboring forest. Perfect for you and Tempest to keep yourselves busy.”

“How dare you manipulate me based on my love of history and dirt?” Kassim grumbled. Tempest snorted into his water glass.

“I am very good at exploiting my opponent's weaknesses,” Mephiles answered cheerfully.

Kassim begrudgingly admitted that Mephiles and Scourge had won this one—they had managed find something that would keep him and Tempest out of the way while they drank themselves into a stupor with wine that cost half his monthly salary. He glanced at Tempest as the kid shoved noodles into his too wide mouth.

“What do you think, Rat? Want to stomp around the woods for a couple days?”

“Not as much fun as a beach but not the worst,” Tempest said around a mouthful of noodles.

“Try not to talk with your mouth full, Tempest,” Scourge sighed.

Tempest swallowed and shrugged. “I bet learning about the history and stuff is cool. Or!” He brightened. “Kassim, you should learn everything you can about the winery and then we can hike around on our own!”

“I don't know if they'd let us do that.”

Tempest grinned, looking way too much like Scourge for comfort. “Then we sneak out at night and do it.”

Kassim sighed, spinning some noodles on his fork and trying to ignore everyone's empty plates. It wasn't a big deal that he ate so slowly, even with a tiny portiom in front of him. They'd always told him that. Yet even now, it still made him squirm. Scourge grabbed the other plates and cheerfully went to go rinse them and place them in the dishwasher. Kassim twitched but managed to just eat another bite of noodles.

“Is there anything else for Kassim and me to do?” Tempest asked Mephiles.

“There are several trails around the winery, a tour of the tunnels, a little shop at the bottom of the hill, and a few day trip activities,” Mephiles took the brochure from Kassim gently and pointed them out to Tempest.

“Ooh, look Kassim!” Tempest held it up. “We could ride hot air balloons!”

The blood drained from Kassim's face. “Uh, maybe not this time. That seems a bit more, uh, involved for a little winery tour.”

“Yep. We'll only be there for four days, Tempest,” Scourge agreed as he rejoined them. “If you want to ride a hot air balloon, we'll look for one closer to home when we get back, alright?”

“Yah! Ooh, then we can bring Victoria and Paradox along.”

Scourge’s smile stiffened a bit. “Sure.”

Tempest turned to Kassim, very serious, in that way that had sealed his fate to become his pet. “Okay. You and me have to plan our days for max fun. Dad and Father are just going to be degenerates all day so they're a lost cause.”

Mephiles coughed into his wine glass to cover up a laugh. Kassim laughed and finally finished his food.

“That word of the day calendar is doing you good, I see. Alright, Rat. Let me get some whisky and we can start planning.”

Tempest had a lot of opinions on what they should get up to on vacation. Kassim slowly came to accept the fact that he didn't think he'd ever been on a real vacation in his life. Tempest was even trying to plan what he would pack based on the activities he thought he wanted to do and what he was sure he would need, which somehow included packing clothes enough for two weeks. Kassim lit a cigarette and wondered if Tempest would disown him for only packing two pairs of pants and one pair of boots.

Scourge and Mephiles had heartlessly abandoned him to Tempest’s machinations, drifting into the living room and leaving them in the kitchen now that dinner was over.

“Why don't we write some things down?” he asked as Tempest started on another tangent that might have been changing his mind again after three previous pivots. There wasn’t enough whisky in the bottle to keep up with him when he got like this.

“Yah!” Tempest raced upstairs to grab a notebook. Kassim used the reprieve to look over the brochure again. What an odd little destination. Bodies in the soil and the entire place surrounded by thick, dark trees. Tempest and he could probably spend the entire trip exploring the woods and the tunnels under the winery without any other activities planned. The little art activity listed did appeal, however.

“Okay!” Tempest appeared back at the table, notebook and pen in hand.

“I think the first day will be a group tour of the winery and then a nice dinner,” Kassim said, trying to remember what Scourge and Mephiles had said earlier during the chaos of Tempest’s attempt to cook. “Not much for us to do other than that.”

Tempest nodded, scribbling it down. His writing was already starting to get small and neat. He could write fast and legibly and it was a little unnerving to see in a nine year old. Once he got his hands on computers, the only thing that would keep him down would be the speed of his brain, not his fingers. Kassim gently snorted smoke out of his nose.

“So day two, we have to do the historical tour thing. Is that all day?”

Kassim checked the brochure. “I'm not sure. Let's plan something else, too, just in case.”

“Tunnels!” Tempest said confidently. “Then we can just plan one hiking outfit.”

“Sure.”

They settled on taking an art class in the small town nearby on day three and then using day four to rest and spend time with Scourge and Mephiles before going home.

Tempest scrunched his muzzle at the list. “Four days really isn't much of a vacation, is it?”

“Not if you want to do a bunch of events, it seems,” Kassim agreed in bewilderment.

Tempest brightened. “But this is the first one where you and I get to hang out the most.” He narrowed his eyes. “You're not going to suddenly not be able to come, right?”

Kassim shook his head, finishing his glass of whisky. “Not this time, Rat. You’re stuck with me.”

Tempest grinned, sharp fangs flashing in the dim light from the overhead fixture. “Good! Cause I really missed you on the last one. I was going to take you snorkeling.”

Tempest's favorite vacations were always the ones that let him swim with fishes. He'd been obsessed with fishes since before he'd found Kassim and decided to adopt him as his pet. It would probably be good for him to get out of the water for a few days.

Mephiles drifted in and smiled at them as he refilled his wine glass. “All set?”

“Yah!” Tempest puffed out his chest. “We're super ready!”

“Excellent. We'll be leaving next week. Make sure Kassim has everything he'll need to stay healthy on the road. He'll need treats as well as kibble.”

Tempest nodded solemnly, writing down a note in his notebook while Kassim gave Mephiles a withering look. Tempest had tried giving him kibble the first couple weeks he'd started living with them and Mephiles and Scourge had never let him live it down. Mephiles smiled and gave him a silent toast as he drifted back out. Asshole. The sound of a cooking show from the TV in the living room filtered in a few moments later. Tempest perked up and skittered out to join his parents, hopping to a stop to look over his shoulder at Kassim.

“Coming?”

“In a bit.” Kassim headed for the stairs to the roof. “I need to talk to Goth.”

“About your whisky and dead bodies?”

Kassim laughed softly. “Yes, Rat.”

He emerged onto the roof, breathing in the salty wind that carried the smell of the ocean and the city together, dirty and clean. The rooftop garden and towering Iblis building kept the noises of the city at bay, the only sounds to greet him the shifting of plant fronds together in the wind. He pulled his phone out, finding Goth’s number and dialing, lighting a cigarette as the phone rang.

“Hola?” Goth’s voice answered with the roughness and confusion of sleep, edged with irritation. Kassim started.

“Did I wake you?”

The sun was down. Goth should have been awake. Was he traveling right now? Kassim had never bothered keeping track.

“Mmm…yes, amorcito corazon, you did," Goth chuckled, the deep honey returning to his voice as he recognized Kassim. He inhaled deeply as he did when getting up from sleep, sheets shifting in the background.

“Oh, uh, I can just hang up and message you…”

“I am awake now. What do you need?”

“Is the corn for Glass Calavera grown on a graveyard?” Kassim blurted through smoke.

Silence stretched over the line. Kassim hugged himself, pacing back and forth above the lights of the city. This was stupid. He hadn’t needed to call Goth. It wasn’t like it was going to make a difference in how he was going to enjoy the trip to Gallows Hill. He didn’t drink wine. Now Goth was going to be annoyed that he’d woken him up for something that could have easily been asked over a message.

“Not that I know of,” Goth finally answered. He didn't sound annoyed, just still half asleep. “Of course, most places in Wind Valley were battlegrounds at one point or another over its long life, so I’m sure there were bodies buried there at times. But not in any ceremonial state. Ay, no, they were likely left to rot and carrion Flickies for the most part...”

“Oh,” Kassim let out a sigh of relief. “Okay. Uh, thanks for that and, um, I can let you go back to sleep…”

“What brought this on?” Goth yawned. “Such an usual question to call me about instead of messaging.”

Kassim took a drag from his cigarette. “The family is going to visit the Gallows Hill Winery next week. One of their selling points is that the vineyard is grown on a hill where prisoners were executed and buried once. Scourge pointed out that Glass Calavera had kind of a similar name and it got me thinking.”

“Nervous, you mean. You only call when your anxiety is high. Yes, I’ve heard of this place." Of course he had. "I have been curious to visit. But you, at a winery? You don’t drink wine.”

“No, but Mephiles and Scourge do. Tempest and I are going to do our own thing.”

“Hm,” Goth hummed wistfully. “Perhaps you and I should take a trip to a place you would enjoy…”

Kassim leaned on the concrete wall and stared down into the city, playing with the ring necklace Goth had given him on their fifth anniversary. “Maybe. I don’t know. Things usually devolve into madness when you and I travel.”

“Ay, that has always been for work or treasure hunts. I am suggesting a true vacation. A week to ourselves.”

A week alone with Goth was both a dream and a nightmare. After watching Tempest plan their little winery getaway, he could almost picture enjoying the sights of a city he'd never seen properly, hand in hand with the bat. Goth might even let them plan it together. He’d always been less controlling than Cal. Kassim flinched. Six years on and he still couldn't keep the jaguar out of his head. Maybe he should let Tempest, Mephiles, and Scourge take him on a few more vacations first, so he knew what to expect.

"You are getting lost in your mind, Kassim," Goth interrupted gently.

He sighed and scrubbed his fingers through his hair, repeating, “Maybe.”

Goth chuckled and yawned again. “You need not commit to anything tonight. Now, I will return to sleep and you will return to your…family.”

“Good night. I love you.”

A small pause followed before Goth returned a soft, “Good night, mi amor.”

Chapter Text

The rhythmic thudding of the windshield wipers made a soft, staccato backdrop to Tempest's excited chattering. Mephiles had lost track of what he'd been talking about three tangents ago, choosing to stare out the window instead. Tempest talked even more than Scourge could, fueled by Kassim's occasional noise of acknowledgement or comment. The jackal always managed to follow whatever Tempest said, despite looking checked out and fingers twitching like he wanted a cigarette. It was one of the reasons they'd agreed to let Tempest adopt him after the fiasco at the Isla de Girovega dig site. He could be propped up next to Tempest when he was in a talkative mood and keep him going while Mephiles and Scourge took a break.

Mephiles glanced down at Scourge, who'd fallen asleep against him when it had started raining soon after they'd left the air strip an hour ago, the flight, the patter of water, and the continued, hypnotizing thud thud of the wipers knocking him right out. It was good for him to sleep like this. He worried more about Tempest than he needed to. Tempest was made of crystal magic and Chaos energy—he could survive almost anything. What he couldn't, Kassim would take in his place. Kassim's inability to stay dead had been the deciding factor in bringing him home with them. Having a functionally immortal minder for Tempest had turned out to be very useful and they'd only had him for four years. 

Regardless, any worrying of any sort was a waste of energy on this trip. They were going to spend a week at a winery. Even Tempest wouldn't be able to put himself in danger there—although if it continued to rain, he may be in danger of becoming a menace of boredom. Tempest when bored was worse than Tempest when excited. Mephiles would have no qualms shoving Kassim into the jaws of a bored Tempest. It was every man and monster for himself when Tempest fell to boredom.

The car slowed, turning onto a small, winding road. The headlights swept over a sign announcing the entrance to the Gallows Hill Winery, advertising an on premises shop at the bottom of the hill. Perhaps Scourge would like to take Tempest there before it closed tonight. Leave Kassim be for a while. Mephiles glanced at Scourge. If he woke up.

They drove along a dark road for a while, the black trees curled around them as they went. The forest stretched dense and deep, letting them go after they had already started climbing the hill that gave the winery its name. Tempest perked up as the car left the constricting cover and the rest of the hill came into view beyond the window.

“Father, Kassim, look! It's so cool! Especially in the rain!”

Mephiles shifted just enough to get a view out the window without waking his husband.

Gallows Hill, marked by the hanging tree at the very top, stood stark against the grey sky, shrouded in fog and mist. The gnarled limbs of the tree twisted into a black tangle at the top of the hill next to the house that doubled as home and inn for the owners of the winery and guests. Circling the hill, the grape vines mirrored their tree overlord, bare, black, and twisted around the trellises and waiting for the next growth cycle. 

“Yeah, we're definitely going to be murdered here,” Kassim muttered, his dry, raspy voice always making it hard to tell if he was joking or not. Tempest chose to take it as a joke, giggling, so Mephiles smiled as well. 

“I don't think it would be very good for the winery's reputation if their guests were murdered when they stayed there.”

“If you say so,” Kassim grumbled. Tempest poked him.

“You’re no fun. Doesn’t this just scream adventure?”

Kassim huffed, giving him a half smile. “Sure, Rat. And lucky you, looks like you'll be getting at least some water this vacation, hm?”

Tempest grinned, his too wide mouth stretching over his fangs. “You're being stupid but I do like rain so,” he stuck out his tongue at the jackal. Kassim stuck his tongue out back. It was cute when they teased each other. It had taken a long time for Kassim to do anything except silently and sullenly follow after Tempest.

Mephiles left them to their bickering, shaking Scourge gently as they continued to wind their way up the hill. It was higher than it seemed from the trees, taking them up toward the sky and away from the forest. 

“Uhm? Wha?” Scourge twitched, peeling himself off Mephiles's shoulder. “What's up? Oh. We're here?”

“Almost.”

“Uglr. Still raining?” Scourge yawned, rubbing his face and wincing a little at the line in his cheek from pressing into Mephiles's shoulder the entire car ride. 

“Yes, pet,” Mephiles chuckled. Scourge eyed him.

“Don't fucking patronize me.”

“I would never.”

“If it rains the entire time we’re here, Tempest and Kassim might be trapped inside more than anyone was hoping.” Scourge massaged his eyes, shaking his shoulders to wake himself up more. 

“I’m not afraid of the rain,” Tempest insisted, still peering out the window. 

“I’m not either,” Kassim said with a shrug. “Although it might make the hike up and down the hill more difficult.”

“We can always stick to the road,” Tempest pointed out. 

Kassim nodded. “True.”

“Cool.” Scourge yawned again. 

The top of the hill finally came into view, a wide, flat expanse occupied mostly by the enormous house they would be staying in. It rose dark and stark against the empty hilltop, wider than it was tall. Mephiles wrinkled his nose at it. He supposed it could be called eccentric or quaint at another time of the year, but by itself in the rain, it became all too clear that it had been built up over time, added to in bizarre ways and nothing kept uniform. The additions stuck out at odd angles, haphazard in their design, and curled around to either side of the house. The only thing that kept it all together was the wide, wrap-around porch, supported by wooden posts set at regular intervals the entire way around—the only regular thing on the entire house. How peculiar. 

“What an interesting building,” Mephiles muttered as the car came to a stop in front of the dark, still house.

“It’s weird,” Tempest announced bluntly. “Why aren’t there any lights on?”

Scourge stretched and frowned. “I don’t know. The owners were supposed to be here.”

“Perhaps they went into town for the evening and forgot we were coming,” Mephiles suggested as their driver, Cody, opened the door for them. “Surely they left us instructions how to get in if they weren’t there?”

They all slid out of the car, wet weeds crunching underfoot. Tempest looked up at the house with glee, eyes dancing. 

“This place is creepy! Can we explore it?”

“We have to get in first,” Mephiles chuckled, taking the lead. Tempest scuttled ahead of him, the old stairs creaking gently under his weight. The creaking turned to groans as Mephiles followed, soon becoming a cacophony of noise when the other two joined. 

“Maybe this is why they asked if we would prefer to stay in town,” Scourge muttered behind him. 

“Still think we’re not going to get murdered here?” Kassim added. Mephiles rolled his eyes. How had he managed to surround himself with the most dramatic people? 

He stepped up to the worn door that had been valiantly painted a welcoming yellow but time was taking its toll against the layers of old paint, flecks of one color peeling off to reveal others. He rapped his knuckles sharply against the wood. They waited in silence for a moment before Mephiles tried again and waited some more. 

“Very well.” Mephiles turned to the jackal lurking behind him, his tall, thin shape black against the grey sky behind them. “Kassim, get us in.”

Kassim snorted. “What makes you think I can?”

“You’re a thief.”

“I'm an archaeologist,” Kassim said through his teeth. “Why don't we just wait in the car?”

Mephiles arched a brow at him. He sighed, stepping up and pulling his lock picks out of his skin, getting to work with grim determination. 

“This lock is really old,” he muttered, half to himself. 

“Easier or harder?” Mephiles folded his arms, watching with mild interest.

“Easier.” Kassim straightened, twisting the old, grinding knob and pushing the door open to reveal a nearly black chasm of an entryway. Kassim looked at him and finally lit a cigarette, adding the smell of smoke to the dry dust clinging to the house. “This wine had better be the best fucking wine on the planet.”

Chapter Text

Scourge had to admit, Kassim had a point.

They stepped cautiously into the house, looking around at the empty space. Somewhere deeper in the house, a clock ticked steadily, adding to the gentle patter of the rain far above them on the roof. He felt around for light switches, wanting to get as much light as possible into the house as fast as possible. He found some and flicked them, illuminating the halls that seemed to stretch endlessly in front of them. Two halls branched off from the entryway, framed by open arches that invited them into a sitting room and a dining room. The house felt wrong in a way he couldn’t put his finger on until Tempest kind of did a twirl.

“This house is all wobbly. Why is built like that? I think it’s making me dizzy.” He paused. “Or I’m hungry. Maybe both.”

That was it. The house had a weird number of non right angles. Scourge grimaced.

“Hello?”

Silence echoed back from his call.

“Do you suppose they could hear us if they were deeper in?” Mephiles asked, hands in pockets and ramrod still.

“With all these fucked up walls? Probably not…” Scourge rolled his eyes. “But they knew we were coming. If they were here, they'd be waiting for us.”

“I believe I'm beginning to agree with Kassim.” Mephiles frowned. “The wine had better make up for this poor reception.”

Scourge nodded, glancing at Kassim. He stood just outside the doorway, tall and dark, wreathed in rain mist and cigarette smoke, his gold eyes glittering in the dim light from the bulbs inside. If he weren't with them, he would sure as shit add to the unsettling atmosphere hanging around the place. Undead treasure jackals would do that to a place, he imagined.

“Leaving us to get attacked by the axe murderer on our own?” He smirked. Kassim huffed.

“I don't think they'd appreciate it if I smoked indoors. Most people don't have the top line air filters we have at Iblis.”

Scourge wrinkled his nose. “This place already smells like no one's aired it out in years. A little cigarette smoke probably won't make a difference.”

“How strange,” Mephiles muttered as Kassim stepped through the door and closed it behind him. “This is where the winery tours take place. Why does it feel like no one's lived here in years?”

“Maybe the weird walls trap dust and they didn't clean it today,” Tempest offered, hands in pockets, wandering around to take the front entry and sitting area in, clearly getting antsy. “If there's no one here, can I go explore now?”

“Take Kassim with you,” Mephiles said mildly before Scourge could answer.

Tempest grabbed the jackal’s sleeve and towed him into the dark emptiness of the house with a gleeful giggle. It didn't take long for their footsteps to fade, swallowed by the strange architecture. Scourge shook his head.

“I don't like this.”

“I'm sure it's a simple scheduling error.” Mephiles shrugged. “Or perhaps the owners were trapped in town by the rain.”

“But then why does it feel like no one's been here for years?”

Mephiles came over to put his hands on Scourge's shoulders, rubbing his thumbs up and down in a soothing motion. “Perhaps Tempest is right and then house's strange design traps air and dust.”

Scourge eyed him. “Your inability to worry about our vacations is sure something.”

“And I think you worry too much about our vacations,” Mephiles chuckled, dropping his hands from Scourge's shoulders to his waist. “We'll be fine, Scourge. The owners are surely going to arrive soon and all will be well.”

“So should we wait here until they do?” Scourge fidgeted. “Or make sure Tempest doesn't do anything to the house while he explores?”

“Kassim will make sure he doesn't break anything.”

“Oh right. Right. Kassim.” And here Scourge had been so proud of himself for getting Kassim to go with them on this family vacation. The jackal was simply too quiet, following Tempest around like a shadow. They would have to work on that. Maybe put a bell on him or something.

Mephiles laughed, nuzzling his nose. “Should we instead find somewhere to let you nap more? Or would you feel better if we tried to contact the owners?”

“I don't know,” Scourge sighed, smoothing his hands along Mephiles's shirt. “Maybe a nap would help feel less like the house was going to eat us.”

“It is an unusual house,” Mephiles agreed, looking around at the house again. “I find it pleasing, but I suspect that means it's too dark for most.”

“Yeah…” Scourge frowned at the dim bulbs above their heads. “They could use an upgrade, for sure.”

They stepped deeper into the house, the unnatural silence broken only by the wind rattling the windows and the tick of that damn clock. Tempest and Kassim had vanished entirely, with only the occasional creak of a floorboard as they moved around further in. Scourge had to squash a tiny sliver of fear that they wouldn't be able to find their way back. It was a fucking house. Weird, but just a house. Pull yourself together and get a grip!

“Look at this,” Mephiles successfully distracted him by tapping a claw against a little brass bell fixed to the wall just outside the doorway to a dark room. “Should we install one of these to summon our people to the penthouse?”

Scourge snorted, bumping his shoulder against his husband. “And take away the fun you get out of spooking them when you just step through a wall?”

“Hmm. True. It wouldn't be the same, would it?”

Scourge squinted into the room beyond. “Who the fuck keeps a room this dark during the day?”

“The entire house is kept quite dark. Perhaps it makes more sense during the summer and it's a habit they simply continue in winter. There is only the one tree to provide shade, after all.”

Scourge grumbled to himself, sliding his fingers along the crinkling wallpaper in search of a light switch. It almost seemed pointless to look. If the lights were as dim as they were in the entryway, he'd be squinting to see through the gloom anyway. At least he was starting to get used to the dimness of the room, making out lumpy shapes that were hopefully furniture and not dead bodies.

“What is that?” Mephiles murmured, almost to himself.

Scourge froze. “What is what?”

“There's something…strange in this room.”

“Strange like normal strange or strange like something that can fuck with us strange?”

“It doesn't appear to be moving so I doubt we are in danger just yet.”

“Great,” Scourge muttered, resuming his search and finally finding the switches for the lights.

As expected, a dim light flooded the room, just enough to see that they were, indeed, the normal furniture you'd expect in a living room space, a couple of chairs, an old but well cared for couch, a coffee table…and a towering structure covered with a thick cloth standing just off center in the room. Alright, you wouldn't expect that in a living room space.

“Hm. That would explain why I couldn't figure out what it was.”

“Well what is it?” Scourge frowned, poking it gently. The thing under the cloth rattled, solid to the touch. “Eugh. Whatever it is, why cover it if they're also going to put it right in the middle of the room?”

“I assume this is not a room they show to guests. Perhaps that is why they keep the windows covered.” Mephiles prowled around the room, examining the furniture and wallpaper. “What a…unique pattern…”

“You like art of things on fire.” Scourge tugged at the fabric. “I kind of want to take this off—What do you think is under here?”

“A giant, hideous sculpture of a wine bottle.”

Scourge took a step back, examining the hulking figure. The weird walls skewed it to loom over him in the dim light from the bulbs half hidden under ancient green shades dotting the ceiling. It almost looked like a person, but much too tall, even taller than Mephiles. He wrinkled his nose. “I don't know if it's the right shape for a wine bottle…”

“It might be if it's hideous as I said.” Mephiles stalked back over, his fur off and eyes glowing. He'd rolled his sleeves up over his forearms, almost looking like he'd stepped straight from the time this room had been built—decades ago. It was kind of hot. Scourge cleared his throat, turning back to the cloth.

“Then let’s get a peek. We'll cover it up again before anyone could ever know.”

“Didn't you want a nap?” Mephiles gave him a crooked smile and gestured to the couch. “I was going to nobly offer myself as a pillow…”

“A sacrifice.” Scourge rolled his eyes. “Once we get a look, we'll nap.”

“Very well.”

They gently pulled the cloth off the thing, revealing a tangle of wire, metal, and bone.

Scourge recoiled, eye to eye with a Flicky skull twisted up with a wire, hanging ghoulishly alongside bits and baubs like old forks, rusty nails, and other bones he couldn't identify.

“What the fuck?!” he hissed, stepping away from it and bumping into Mephiles, who wrapped his arms around him.

A beast's skull grinned emptily at them from the top of the pile of metal and bone, hunched over them in a twisted effigy of a person. The small pieces strewn through it knocked against each other gently, the sound trying to be soothing but just adding to the unease twisted in Scourge’s guts that got worse the longer he stared at it.

“It—It must a bizarre art piece.” Mephiles sounded uncertain, an even worse sign. Scourge dig his boots into the rug underfoot and shook his head, pushing back hard against Mephiles.

“I don't care. Let's find somewhere else to stay tonight. Fuck, let's sleep in the fucking car.”

“Shh, pet. You're tired. It's not that bad. Let's cover it back up and find the children.”

Scourge squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. Mephiles was right. He was tired. He was even starting to hear things in the effigy, a rhythmic tapping along the wood and bones.

“Father, I'm hun—Whoa!” Tempest's voice broke into the room, snapping the seal of unease that had fallen over it. Scourge gasped, opening his eyes again and letting Mephiles step away from him.

“Look at this thing!” Tempest circled the effigy, oblivious to the bad energy radiating off of everything. Scourge swallowed the hysterical urge to snatch him away before it devoured him. “It’s like a crazy guardian or something. Weird to put it here, though.”

“What are you talking about, Rat?” Kassim's raspy voice and the smell of cigarette smoke preceded him into the room.

“This cool art thing. Isn’t it weird?”

Scourge turned eagerly to see what Kassim thought of the effigy. He was an archeologist. Maybe he could reassure them it was something that emulated art from the area.

Instead, he glanced around the room, gold eyes wary. “Are you pranking me, here?”

Tempest fell serious, stepping back from the effigy with a frown. “N-no. Why would I do that?”

“Then what are you talking about?” Kassim scanned the room again, confusion etched into his face. Scourge exchanged a worried look with Tempest and then a confused one with Mephiles.

“I'm talking about this big art thing,” Tempest said again, gesturing widely at the effigy, drawing Kassim's eye to it. “Come on! I know you were complaining about the light in here, but you can’t miss this!”

Kassim's gaze slid straight through the effigy. “I don’t see anything.”

“What!” Tempest rushed over and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the effigy. “But it's right here!”

Scourge reached out to stop him from putting Kassim's hand on the thing. “Oh, hey, hey. Let's not touch it.”

“Oh. Right.” Tempest frowned. “But you can see it, right, Dad?”

“Yep. Wish I couldn't.”

Tempest grimaced at him and turned to Mephiles. “Father?”

“I can see it.”

They all turned back to Kassim. He flattened his ears back against his head, eyes wide and frightened like a beast's, his slender shoulders bunching up as if he was going to hurl himself out of Tempest's grip.

“I don't see anything.”

Bonus Art

Kassim is about to have a weird time in future chapters....

Chapter Text

Kassim stared in horror as the cloth Scourge and Mephiles threw over nothing stayed put. None of them would have lied to him about something like this, but seeing it for himself was something else.

“Are you okay?” Tempest asked, frowning up at him.

“I, uh, I don't know.”

“So the owners aren't here, they own a freaky statue that our magic treasure jackal can't see, the sun is about to set, and Tempest is hungry.” Scourge ticked the items off on his fingers. “Anything else we have to worry about?”

Thunder cracked overhead. Mephiles looked up at the ceiling with a sigh.

“Oh for fuck's sake,” Scourge snapped. “We have a modern car. A little rain won't stop us from leaving!”

“Do we know if there's anywhere to stay in town?” Mephiles asked.

“I already told you, I will sleep in the fucking car at this point.”

“That'd be more fun if we had blankets and pillows,” Tempest grumbled.

Kassim lit a cigarette, still staring at the cloth, itching to call Goth. But that would be twice in one month without a weekend together between. If he gave into the panic, Goth would use that the get him to say yes to a vacation, like it or not.

Besides, if they were leaving, it didn't matter. It would bother him, but it didn't matter. He could start researching it when they got back home.

“Alright, let's get back in the car and hopefully, we'll find something to eat and a place to stay and tomorrow, we'll figure out what happened here,” Scourge announced, clapping his hands. Kassim jolted back and shook himself.

“Uh, yeah. Right.”

Tempest fell into step next to him, slipping his hand in his. “Boo. I wanted to explore more.”

“You mean get lost again and panic about finding our way back?” Kassim snickered through smoke. Tempest stuck his tongue out at him.

“Don't pretend this house isn't spooky.”

Kassim glanced over his shoulder at the living room. “True…”

Cody exited the driver’s seat to open the door for them to get back in. The rain had gotten much worse while they’d been in the house, the sound of it muffled from inside. Combined with the setting sun, the world around the hill had disappeared behind the unrelenting curtain of rain. Kassim crawled into the back of the car with the rest of his family but took the seat away from them, hunching his shoulders and curling his tail around his feet. The thing he couldn’t see in the house haunted him.

“Well,” Scourge let out a harsh exhale, “not the best start to a vacation we’ve ever had.”

“Could have been worse,” Tempest piped up. “It’s still not near the ocean and we didn't see any monsters.”

Scourge smirked at him. “True.”

The car wound its way back down the hill. Tempest tried to watch the hill for a while, but soon complained it was too rainy to see anything.

“You’ve already seen it, Rat,” Kassim teased gently. “And you’ll see it again tomorrow.”

“I know,” Tempest sighed, flopping back into his seat and pouting. “But what else is there to do now?”

“You could nap until we get to town,” Scourge suggested, closing his eyes and leaning against Mephiles.

“I’m not tired. I’m hungry. Do we have any snacks?”

Kassim searched his bag and then through his skin, finally pulling out a half crushed bag of potato chips. He frowned. Usually, he had something better on him in case of emergency. And how the fuck had it gotten crushed? His magic wasn't a bag where things got squashed under other things. Whatever. At least it was better than nothing. He handed the bag to Tempest apologetically.

“It’s all I’ve got.”

“Might have something in the trunk,” Scourge mumbled, already falling back to sleep.

“We’ll be in town in half an hour,” Mephiles chuckled, rearranging himself so Scourge could sleep better against him. Jealousy flared in Kassim’s chest. It wasn’t fair to compare Scourge and Mephiles to him and Goth but it hurt all the same. He looked away, locking his gaze on the floor as Tempest tore into the chips and crunched them down happily.

The car slowed to a stop. Mephiles and Kassim looked up and glanced at each other. Cody rolled the window barrier down, looking back at them with concern.

“The road is washed out. There's no way the car is getting through.”

“Fuck,” Mephiles rubbed his eyes. “And there aren't any other options?”

Cody pulled out a map from the glove box, scanning it quickly and shaking his head. “Dead end from here.”

“Very well. Head back to the winery, then. Looks like we don't have a choice about where we stay after all.” He glanced at Scourge with a dry smile. “I don't believe for a second we'll be sleeping in the car, either.”

“At least that was always the plan so we know there are rooms available for us,” Kassim grumbled. Mephiles eyed him as Cody carefully turned the car around.

“Are you going to be like this the entire night?”

Kassim pressed himself back against the seat, flicking his ears down. He was almost thirty, not Tempest's age, yet he felt the need to apologize. “Sorry. Probably not. I guess I'm hungry, too.”

Tempest held the chip bag out. He took one.

“I'll go with you to your room when we get back,” Tempest offered. “Just in case there's anything else you can't see in there.”

“Thanks, Rat.”

“We will have to hope they kept the kitchen stocked or we will all be snapping at each other before long,” Mephiles rubbed his chin.

“If it comes to that, I will walk into town,” Kassim snorted. “Hell, maybe I could just let the flood take me there.”

Tempest turned big, worried eyes on him. “But that’s super dangerous, Kassim.”

He shrugged. “Might be worth the risk if it means getting food.”

“You’d still have to walk back.”

“But I wouldn’t have to walk there. Cuts down the travel time.”

Tempest scrunched his nose. “I still don’t want you to do it.”

Kassim huffed. “I don’t think it’ll come to that.”

The car wound its way all the way back to the house, parking as close to the door as Cody could manage. Mephiles shook Scourge gently, waking him.

“Are we there already?” Scourge yawned.

“We’re back at the house.”

“What the fuck?” Scourge scowled.

“The road is washed out. We’re stuck here for the night.”

“What the fuck.”

Cody let them out, helping Kassim and Scourge grab the bags and troop back inside. The tamarin looked around the entryway with a grimace.

“I can see why you didn’t want to stay here.”

“Alright,” Scourge set the bags near the door, shaking rain off his jacket. “Let’s find the kitchen before I scream.”

They turned the lights back on, surveying the rooms they’d already been in and the rooms they hadn’t yet. Kassim hung back, letting Mephiles and Scourge push deeper into the house. Tempest had been half joking about other things he couldn’t see but the possibility of running into something like that unnerved him. He’d rather they find it and let him know.

The dining area to the right led directly into the kitchen, a large, open space that was half industrial, half family oriented. It had clearly been set up for their arrival, much to the relief of everyone, the large walk in fridge and freezer stocked with food that would undoubtedly highlight the flavors of the wine they’d been planning on serving them. That plan was out the window for now. They would make do with what Kassim could make.

Mephiles chuckled as Kassim tried to pull together a meal with what they had through half remembered recipes. “Perhaps we should find one of the wine bottles as well and give ourselves a tour of the winery.”

“Maybe we wait to start raiding the booze until tomorrow,” Scourge grumbled. “Right now, dinner, decaf coffee, and then bed.”

Kassim nodded, cracking eggs into a pan he found for quick fried egg sandwiches. In another pan, he fried some slices of ham and tomatoes, toasting some bread while everything cooked and slapping it all together with slices of avocado on top, handing them out to everyone. They all made tired, grateful noises and ate in silence.

“Does anyone need anything else to eat?” Kassim asked as everyone finished their sandwich before him. Scourge waved him off.

“Don’t worry about it, Kassim. We’re capable of dredging up popcorn or something if we’re still hungry.”

“Dad, you burned the popcorn last time you tried to make it…”

“Shh, Tempest, no one was supposed to know about that.”

“Pet, everyone knew about that.”

“The house smelled like burnt popcorn for, like, a week. Even Kassim’s air filters didn’t help. Which means burnt popcorn is more powerful than cigarette smoke.” Tempest rolled his eyes. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

“My smoke isn’t that bad…” Kassim protested weakly like he didn’t smoke at least a pack or two a day. Tempest shrugged.

“I mean, it’s not, but if you’re having a really bad day, the filters struggle. My point was that burnt popcorn is worse for days.”

“Ah…”

“I’ll just make your father make the popcorn then,” Scourge scoffed. Everyone looked at Mephiles skeptically. He shrugged.

“At least it’s not my house if I burn it.”

“I’ll make the popcorn then!” Tempest declared.

Cody finally cleared his throat, drawing their attention to him. “Um, I was scheduled to stay in town until you needed me. Since we’re all stuck here, do you think there’s a place for me to stay or will I have to sleep on the couch?”

Kassim shuddered at the idea of sleeping near the thing he couldn’t see in the living room. Better Cody than him. Scourge shrugged.

“This place is huge. There’s gotta be a room to spare.”

“Oh good,” Cody sighed gratefully.

“Go grab your bag and then we'll all go upstairs together.”

Kassim focused on finishing his sandwich. It was a fucking sandwich—half a sandwich—and he still couldn't eat it even close to normal speed.

Luckily, it was just a sandwich and he was done and rinsing his plate by the time Cody returned with his bag. He glanced at the plates piled in the sink, twitching but forcing himself to back up. What would be the harm of waiting to do the dishes in the morning?

Tempest eyed his battered duffel bag as he slung it over his shoulder and grabbed the kid's hard case. “Didn't we get you a bigger case?”

“I haven't needed one.” Kassim shrugged. “I'm used to this.”

“You'll give yourself back problems.” Tempest said it with such earnest seriousness that it took everything in Kassim not to laugh. He was sure the kid had gotten it from Mephiles fussing over Scourge. The near hysterics bubbling up through his anxiety were very hard to keep inside as he responded.

“I'll consider a new case when we get back.”

Tempest nodded, satisfied, and trooped up the stairs after Mephiles and Scourge. Kassim nodded for Cody to go on ahead of him and took the end of their little entourage, glancing over his shoulder toward the living room. Of course, just because the owners of the winery had some freaky statue thing he couldn't see, it didn't mean anything was amiss, but he couldn't help the unease prickling along his back, sure that he would feel invisible hands on him at any moment.

“Wow, this place is dark as hell,” Scourge muttered at the top of the stairs. They all paused while he searched for a light. Kassim grimaced. Maybe he should have gone first. His vision was much better in the dark than most people's.

The lights clicked on, barely illuminating the hallway stretching out in front of them. There were no ends in this house, only long, winding hallways that led to closed off doors and never seemed to stop.

“Lets hope these doors are the bedrooms…” Mephiles grumbled as they started forward again. He took the initiative to open the first door on the right, just enough light left in the day to breath some needed life into the hallway. “Ah, good.”

The other three doors they tried turned out to be rooms as well. Kassim tossed his bag onto the floor of his room before bringing Tempest's into his.

Tempest pressed his claws to the window, peering out into the gloom. “Wow, it's really coming down. I can barely even see the roof.”

“If it keeps up, it'll make exploring harder tomorrow.” Kassim eyed Tempest's crystalline stumps, unsure how sturdy they were in mud. He could run as fast as Scourge even on sand, but mud had that slickness to it that might make it hard for him. Tempest grinned up at him.

“I'll get make you carry me.”

“And what makes you think I'll agree to that?” Kassim laughed, pulling out his cigarettes and eyeing the pack. Only half gone. What an achievement.

“Cause I'm very cute.”

“Ah, how could I forget?” Kassim snorted, lighting a cigarette and tweaking his ear gently. “Get your pj's on, Rat and then we can see if there's also a bathroom around here for our daily ablutions.”

“Our daily what?!” Tempest screwed up his face, giggling. Kassim winked at him.

“Showers.”

“You're so weird!” Tempest called after him as he drifted back out to his own room.

Chapter Text

“Albutions. Avlutions. Ablutions,” Tempest tried the word out, scrunching his nose when he couldn't remember exactly what Kassim had said. It felt like an old timey word, even funnier coming out of Kassim. Kassim had a weirdness to him that could feel kind of old and dust sometimes, but he wasn’t that old! He did like old things, though, so Tempest guessed that's where he’d picked it up. He had to admit, it was fun to say.

“Ablutions,” he said again, giggling. It also felt like a word Father would use. “Aslpooshions.” That was what Dad would say when pretending to not know the word.

Not wanting Kassim to bug him when he got back, he popped his case open and pulled out his stuffed fish, Carlos, tossing him gently on the bed, and then his pajamas, pulling them on. Dad and Father were a little annoyed by all the weird stuff going on, but having the house all to themselves would be great! No one could yell at him if he wanted to run around or poke his nose behind all those weird closed doors. Dad and Father were just being fussy. They’d calm down when they all got good sleep and went through their ablutions.

A scream wailed from Kassim’s room, followed by the door crashing against the wall and then a body. Tempest threw himself out of his own room, finding his pet cowering against the wall, tail curled around himself and fingers digging into his hair, eyes squeezed shut. Tempest balked at the freaky change in him. They'd only been separated a couple minutes!

“It’s not real! It’s not real!” Kassim whimpered as Dad and Father joined Tempest crouching next to him.

“Kassim?” Tempest touched his arm gently. Kassim’s eyes snapped open, wild and gold in the dim light from the room. Tempest jumped back a little. Kassim barely seemed aware, his eyes staring but not totally seeing.

“I—I—” he gasped, eyes darting around and then landing on his bare arm and the gold bands glinting, which made him flinch.

“Hey, hey,” Tempest soothed, feeling bad for his reaction before. “It’s okay. Nothing bad is happening.”

Kassim’s eyes finally focused on something in the room. “The mirror—”

Tempest looked up at his parents, scrunching his nose. Dad frowned and shrugged, stepping carefully into the room to look at the mirror.

“Seems like a normal mirror,” he reported.

“You hear that?” Tempest turned back to Kassim. Kassim uncurled himself slowly, blinking. His eyes slowly went back to normal, sharp and assessing, with that look he got sometimes. Like his mind was thinking about something while he was trying to talk to them about something else.

“You didn’t see—” He shook his head, muttering to himself, bitterness creeping in, “No, of course not.”

“So there’s a statue downstairs that only Kassim can’t see and there’s a mirror trick upstairs that only he can see,” Dad sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Do you want us to just take the mirror into our room?”

“Maybe…” Kassim pulled himself up, hugging himself. Tempest squeezed his hand.

“What did you see?”

“My old self. Before—” Kassim gestured to himself. Tempest frowned, pulling him back as Father and Dad dragged the mirror out. Kassim flinched back and refused to look at the surface.

“What do you mean?”

“Ah. I didn't always look like this.” Kassim rubbed the thicker gold band around one wrist and then gave him a dry smile. “I couldn't always keep snacks in my skin.”

“Oh…” Tempest blinked at him. He'd never thought about what Kassim's life had been like before he'd adopted him. “Why did that make you scream like that?”

“I saw—” Kassim swallowed. “I saw—it—and—it—it brought up a lot of bad memories. I guess I'm just too tired to handle that tonight.”

“Oh.” Tempest scrunched his eyebrows at him. “That's really sad.”

“Yeah,” Kassim huffed out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. Sorry to worry you, Rat.”

“Are you okay now?” Tempest hugged him, bony frame crunching under his arms like always. Father also felt a little like that, like his bones weren't quite in the right places or fully attached.

“I hope so. There's clearly something about this house that's doing funny things to my head.”

“Let’s go out and explore tomorrow, for sure, then. I won't even make you carry me.”

Kassim gave him a dry smile. “You know I would if you asked anyway.”

Tempest let him go reluctantly. Kassim wouldn’t accept an invitation to sleep in his room but he wished he would. The empty house rattled and creaked with the wind and rain outside and the memory of Kassim's scream haunted him as he closed the door to his room again. His family suddenly felt very far away.

Forget asking Kassim to sleep with him! He grabbed his pillow and Carlos and skittered across the hall to knock on his parents’ door.

Father opened it with a raised eyebrow. Tempest squeezed his fish.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Of course, love.” Father opened the door wider to let him in, glancing behind him and hesitating briefly before closing it again. Dad was already in bed, looking close to sleep. He'd been so tired today. It was weird to see him like that. Usually, Dad was the one who could keep up with him. Tempest glanced at the mirror and decided not to look too closely, crawling onto the bed next to Dad, snuggling between him and Father when he followed suit. Much better.

“Do you think Kassim will be okay?” Tempest asked as Dad shifted to make him comfortable.

“Yep. He's probably just tired. He'll be fine after he gets some sleep. You know he sleeps in tents a good chunk of the year. Even a creepy house is better than that, right?”

“Probably.”

Settled between his parents, listening to his dad slip into sleep almost immediately and his father's comfortable, even breathing that never changed, Tempest soon fell asleep too.

Chapter Text

Only to be awakened by a soul rattling alarm ringing through the room. 

Tempest thought his heart was going to never start working again. Dad and Father jolted up with harsh, surprised gasps, moving faster than Tempest. 

“What the fuck?” Dad growled groggily. “What the fuck is that?”

“A bell?” Father replied just as muddled, rubbing his eyes and squinting into the darkness beyond the bed. 

“Why is there a fucking bell? Why is it going off?”

Tempest sat up, trying to shake off the certainty that something was deeply wrong. His parents weren't worried. Dad sounded more annoyed and confused than anything. 

The bell continued to ring so hard it cracked against the wall loud enough to add that to the noise. Tempest frowned at it, crawling out of the bed and looking closer. The cable went into the wall. It wasn't an electric alarm. 

“Something is making the bell ring.”

His parents stilled behind him. 

“Something—inside the house?” Father asked quietly.

The bell finally stilled, echoes of the ringing still rolling around the room in the sudden silence. 

Tempest pulled the door open, sticking his head out into the pitch black hallway.

“Tempest!” Dad hissed. “Get back here!”

“But what about—”

The dark shape of Kassim's door swung open on dragging hinges. Tempest couldn't see him in the void beyond the door. 

“Kassim?”

“Mn.”

A soft click sounded behind him. Light flooded the hallway from the room, flashing over all the gold in Kassim's skin and hair. The sudden harsh light should have made the jackal react, but when it reflected off his gold, luminous eyes, he didn't move. He almost looked dead. 

Tempest shrank back a bit, blinking at him. He'd never seen him right after waking up. Was he always like this? Hair hanging down over his face and around his shoulders, listless, eyes slightly unfocused. He turned his head slowly to look down the hall. Not in the direction of the stairs but farther down the hall, where the maze of turns continued. Tempest glanced down the hall, too, as a floorboard creaked somewhere beyond the safe halo of light from his parents’ room. 

“Was there someone here this whole time?” Dad hissed.

“If so, I do not appreciate their version of a wake up call,” Father grumbled back. 

Kassim moved like a ghost, not responding to either of them, drifting out of his room and trailing down the hall, the gold tip of his tail glinting in the light even as he disappeared into the darkness.

“Kassim?” Tempest crept out after him. His pet didn't turn around or acknowledge him.

“Tempest!” Dad's fingers snatched the air behind Tempest. Father sighed, muttering something to Dad and following Tempest down the hall, using his phone flashlight to light their way as they left the safety of the light from the room.

Creaks and groans followed Kassim's progress through the house. He wasn't trying to be quiet. Tempest hung closer to the wall instead, glancing back at Father every few feet to make sure he was still there. Tempest was tense with certainty that the darkness would snatch one of them away if he didn't keep them in sight at all times. The sound of rain that had been soothing hours before now made him sure that someone was walking along behind them and hiding their footsteps under the rain. 

They turned a corner, stalling at the idea of leaving the safety of the light from the bedroom. Tempest glanced at Father again, who was looking back at the room with a frown. 

“Perhaps we should return to your dad…”

“But Kassim—”

“Will be fine.”

“But what about the bells?”

“Perhaps a tree branch caught on something that made them ring.”

Tempest scowled at his father. He was just saying things to make him go back with him and they both knew it. The creaking behind him faded away as Kassim kept going. Tempest glanced back into the darkness.

“Can't we make him come back? Can you carry him back?”

“You know he doesn't like being touched by anyone other than you.”

Tempest flicked his ears back. “Then I'm going after him.”

He ducked around the corner, determined to follow Kassim until he could get him to respond. If someone was in the house, he wouldn't leave Kassim to get killed because of a weird sleep walking thing.

“Kassim, stop!”

Kassim had been swallowed by the house. Tempest hurried forward, trailing his hand along the wall to keep from getting lost. After a moment, the light from Father's phone followed behind him. 

They turned another corner, the only light now from Father's phone, barely illuminating the hall around them. The sounds of Kassim moving in front of them stayed stubbornly in the shadows. Tempest hesitated again. He hadn't actually seen Kassim go down this way. The jackal had vanished while he’d argued with Father. He could have found another hallway, a set of stairs, or wandered into another room. He wasn't behaving normally. The sounds ahead of them could be drawing them into a trap.

Father's phone light glanced off a shiny banister as he caught up to Tempest. Tempest spied a light switch at last and flipped it on.

The bulb flared blindingly, the light flashing off Kassim's gold as he finally stopped moving, already halfway down the stairs. Tempest yelped, throwing up a hand against the brightness just before the bulb popped with a sharp crack echoing up the stairwell. Father's phone light bounced around as he reacted the same way, stumbling back against the painful burning. 

Tempest blinked the spots away, looking back down the stairs.

“Tempest?” Kassim finally called out, sounding confused.

Father's phone light flashed down the stairway, sweeping over Kassim, looking up with that same weird nonreaction to the light in his eyes. Tempest sucked in a breath as Father's phone swung back again.

Another pair of luminous eyes glinted in the light just over Kassim's shoulder, further down the stairs.

Chapter Text

“Kassim!” Tempest squeaked. “Behind you!”

Father's light stabilized, reflecting off nothing again. Kassim turned, frowning at the empty, illuminated space. Tempest wanted to scream at him not to move. Like moving would somehow trigger the attack. Fear crawled up his back, fur and crystal quills standing on end. If Father hadn't been standing behind him, he was sure something would be hooking it's claws into him and dragging him back into the darkness of the house. He glanced over his shoulder at Father, who didn't seem to have any of these fears, raising an eyebrow at him.

Tempest flattened his ears back. Someone else had been in the house. The house was huge. They had to still be there. They'd left Dad all alone in the bedroom. What if that had been the plan all along?

“What—”

The bells started ringing again, cutting Kassim's question off. They were everywhere! The sound crashed into Tempest's ears and nerves, snapping the fear into action. He spun, losing his footing and tipping down the stairs. He didn't even have time to scream, his lungs locked in panic.

Kassim caught him, holding him tight as he took the fall for him, ending up in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. The exposed fur along his arms stood on end, his breathing ragged in Tempest's ear. Tempest squirmed against him. He had to run! Back up to Father, back to Dad, out the door, he didn't care!

“Tempest!” Father's voice broke through his churning thoughts. He hauled Tempest up into his arms, leaving Kassim on the floor.

The bells still rang, echoing through the house, calling the person stalking them to their location. Tempest shook his head, pulling against Father and starting to cry.

“We have to leave! We have to get Dad! Let me go!”

He finally got free and bolted down the hallway.

“Tempest!” Father and Kassim called after him. Tempest smacked into the wall he hadn't seen, smashing his nose into the ancient wallpaper. He toppled back over with a squeal of pain. The bells were still too loud! Dad could be in danger!

Hands grabbed him again. The attacker had him! The shadows were going to drag him away! He expelled defensive crystals from his spines. The hands dropped him. A bark of pain sounded from a familiar, raspy voice, swinging his attention back to reality.

Tempest turned to Kassim in horror. The jackal held his arms against his chest awkwardly, gold blood dripping from beneath the crystals in his skin. He breathed hard through his teeth, eyes squeezed shut.

“Kassim!” Oh no, oh no! How could he have hurt Kassim? Guilt crushed any remaining fear. He raised his hands to his pet uncertainly, not sure how to help him without hurting him more.

Father joined them, rubbing his temple in the sudden silence left when the bells stopped ringing. “What was all that?” He saw the crystals sticking out of Kassim's arms. “Ah…”

“I'm sorry!” Tempest reached out to Kassim. “I don't—I don't know what happened!”

“It's—It's okay, Rat.” Kassim slowly unfolded his arms, starting to pull crystals out of his arms. Father cleared his throat, curling his fingers. The crystals flew out of Kassim's arms all in one go. Kassim yelped in pain again, hunching over.

“I'm sorry,” Tempest whispered through tears. He'd wanted to keep Kassim safe from the person in the shadows and now he'd been the one to hurt him!

Kassim exhaled hard and shook his head, straightening and opening his arms to let Tempest hug him. “It's not your fault.”

“I should be able to not freak out over some bells,” Tempest muttered into his shirt. “Is Dad okay?”

“He’s fine,” Father said dryly, his phone pinging endlessly. “Upset. We should probably get back to the room.”

“Where—” Kassim's voice wavered. “Where in the house are we?”

Father shrugged. “We're back on the first floor.”

“I noticed,” Kassim grumbled. Tempest cringed back from him again.

“I'm sorry about that, too.”

“It's fine. Better me than you.”

Tempest frowned, managing to swallow the protest he almost always said when Kassim said something like that. It always ended up in an argument and he was too tired to try to get the jackal to change his mind.

“Ah, never mind,” Father murmured. “Your dad said he'll meet us in the kitchen. The sun is rising.”

“Where is the kitchen?” Kassim asked, rubbing his eyes.

“I think I can see some natural light down that way.” Father pointed down the hall. “If nothing else, we can go around the house to the front again.”

Tempest let Kassim go so he could walk easier and followed Father down the hall. The hall grew colder the closer they got to the door, an exterior exit that seemed arbitrarily set in the side of the house. The light filtered in through a small, grimy window at the top, chasing away the shadows of the night. Tempest tentatively checked both ways anyway as Father opened the door. Nothing came out of the remaining darkness and a chill wind slapped him in the face from the open door, leading him out into safety.

Wet safety.

The rain still came down hard, soaking all of them as they used the tree out front to navigate back to the front of the house. Tempest whined wordlessly, hugging himself and wanting to go back to sleep in a nice, warm, dry bed. This was feeling less like an adventure and more like a big, horrible experience instead. Everything except the sandwich Kassim made last night had gone all wrong and miserable. He glanced behind him at his pet. Kassim looked drowned, his hair loose around his shoulders, liquid metal under the rain, and tiredness around his eyes. More than the usual amount.

He bumped into Father when he stopped short, drawing in a hiss of air. Tempest tensed, ready to throw crystals at whatever Father had seen.

“What the fuck?” Kassim breathed just loud enough to hear over the rain.

Tempest leaned around Father, squinting at the wraparound porch, trying to find what they'd seen.

Something swung gently in the wind, protected from the storm by the roof of the porch. Several somethings, their weaving and swaying more distinct the longer he looked.

“What—what is that?” he asked quietly, flattening his ears back.

“Nooses.”

Chapter Text

In a shocking display of self control, Scourge waited until after he'd dried Tempest off and gotten him bundled back in bed before exploding.

“What the fuck!? What the fuck happened to you?!” he directed that question to Kassim before turning on Mephiles, not waiting for an answer. “And what the fuck do you mean, there are nooses hanging by the beams outside?!”

“I mean there a nooses hanging by the beams outside.” Mephiles shrugged. “I believe the more mysterious question is what happened to Kassim.”

“Actually, no, the better question is what the fuck was up with those bells?!” Scourge snarled, quills standing on end in his rage and fear. Kassim cowered back in the corner of Mephiles’s vision, hunching over his coffee and cigarette. “There must be someone hiding in this house and fucking with us. I say we hunt them down and drown them in the river and use their fucking body to get to the other side.”

Mephiles pinched his nose. “It's too early for this amount of blood lust, pet.”

“It's never too early to think about murdering someone fucking with my family.”

“I agree,” Kassim muttered, sipping his coffee. Unfortunately for him, that drew Scourge's attention again. Mephiles pitied him as his husband swung back to him, eyes and fangs flashing.

“Don't think that gets you out of an explanation! What the fuck was that?!”

Kassim did his best to be as small as possible. He managed it quite well for someone so tall and shiny. “I don't know.”

In the light of day, it all seemed more strange than sinister. After all, if not for Tempest's concern and fit last night, the only thing that had happened was Kassim walking down a hallway oddly. Mephiles put a hand on Scourge's shoulder, taking pity on their son's pet.

“Perhaps it was a simple sleep walking incident triggered by the bells last night.”

Scourge eyed him. “Why would bells like that trigger sleep walking?”

Mephiles shrugged. “There is clearly something a little odd about this place for Kassim. No harm came of any of it.”

Kassim huffed but didn't contradict him. The wounds from Tempest's crystal quills had stopped bleeding but hadn't healed completely yet. Mephiles didn't know if Scourge had even noticed them. Scourge rubbed his face with a groan.

“Okay, fine, so maybe there's nothing wrong with Kassim, really. But that still leaves someone in the house with us.”

Mephiles sank into the chair next to Kassim with a sigh, gesturing for Scourge to take one of the others. Scourge flipped him off and grabbed the coffee mugs out of the machine, setting one mug in front of him and throwing himself into the chair.

“I can sleep in the car tonight,” Kassim said quietly.

“Tempest will never agree to that,” Scourge scoffed, waving him off. “We'll find this asshole today and tonight will be fine. No bells, no freaky sleepwalking, right?”

“In theory.” Mephiles nodded, sipping his coffee. He wouldn't mind tearing someone apart today. He was glad Scourge had told him to follow Tempest last night. Their son was perhaps a little too attached to Kassim, in hindsight. It could have ended very badly if he hadn't been there. It was good the jackal had been the only one to get hurt in the chaos after the fall on the stairs or Scourge would be after his hide this morning, too, instead of simply yelling at him. He'd never killed Kassim, but if Tempest had gotten hurt trying to get him to snap out of his spell, he might have. Then again, he might not—Scourge was getting just as attached to Kassim as Tempest was. He might have asked Mephiles to do it. Mephiles loved his husband more than his son's pet, after all.

“Okay,” Scourge exhaled. “So let's assume Kassim's thing isn't dangerous, per se, even if it happens again. There's someone trapped up here with us and we need to do something about that. But they obviously know more about the house than we do. Like how to make the bells ring.”

“I suppose we can ask Cody to help search the rooms, but with only the two of us, it may be a fool's errand,” Mephiles sighed.

“I can—”

“No,” Scourge jabbed a finger at Kassim, cutting him off, “you're going to take Tempest out and distract him for the day.”

Kassim flicked his ears back. “Are you sure?”

“Safer than worrying about him while we try to flush out a maniac.”

“Fair…” Kassim nodded reluctantly, starting to nervously fidget with the necklace he never took off. He looked younger, more haunted today. Mephiles almost protested to Scourge that he was too young to worry about Tempest before remembering he was almost thirty. Chaos, he was tired—He sipped his coffee and tried to ignore the jackal. Scourge turned back to him.

“What we should do is open all the doors in the building.”

“Oh?”

Scourge shrugged. “Someone could easily hide behind a door and sneak around while we're not looking. If we open all the doors, then we can start looking for more hidden spaces and if any doors end up closed, we know someone came that way.”

Mephiles drummed his fingers on the table. “We could also look for the location of the bell pull. They had to have been there to start the alarm last night.”

Kassim rose, clearly trying to avoid notice but saying softly, “If you find any strange symbols anywhere, take a picture for me.”

Mephiles arched a brow. “Why?”

“The only thing that makes me different from any of you is my tie to the Speaker of the Dead.” Kassim shrugged, grinding his cigarette out in the ashtray he took with him everywhere and immediately lighting another one. “I would guess that's why I'm having—trouble here.”

Scourge frowned. “But why? This is a fucking winery. What does a winery have to do with any of the Old Gods, let alone the one for dead people?”

"It is a winery built on corpse soil." Kassim shrugged. “Just a thought. I can try to get ahold of Goth today, too. He might know something.”

Mephiles barely held back his eye roll. Goth knew enough about the Old Gods to help Kassim with what he called his “condition,” but he was one of Mephiles’s most effective rivals. He hated that his son’s pet had a connection to the man, especially one as powerful as love. Or whatever it was between them. 

“Nah. Your boyfriend is bastard. We'll check for spooky magic stuff for you, though.” Scourge waved him off. “Just keep Tempest busy until at least lunch time. Then we can figure out where to go from there.”

Kassim nodded, silently drifting into the walk in fridge and rummaging around. Mephiles exchanged a look with Scourge. Scourge didn't hold back his eye roll. At least it seemed they were on the same page about Kassim for once. 

“At least he makes good food,” Scourge muttered under his breath. Mephiles chuckled.

Mephiles looked around the kitchen again, eyeing the rack of wine. Of course, it was too early to start drinking, but he would be lying if he said he didn't want to open at least one bottle before this mess was over and done. They'd come here to drink wine, after all. Even if they did nothing else they'd planned on this trip, he wanted to do some of that.

Scourge caught his gaze. “After we search the house, boss.”

“Very well, pet.” Mephiles ran his claws up Scourge's arm, leaning in. "Then perhaps we can find something else to do as we indulge..."

“You have a room,” Kassim growled, depositing his haul from the fridge on the counter. “Use it.”

It was good to see him getting his edge back. A grumpy Kassim was a healthy Kassim.

“We'll be happy to,” Scourge drawled back. “After lunch. What are you making for us today?”

Kassim shot them a glare and half a sneer. “Maybe I'll just make breakfast and lunch for Tempest and Cody and leave you two to fend for yourselves. I hear dry burnt toast tastes great.”

“You wouldn't do that to us! You could never survive the colossal bitch fest you'd get if you did that!”

“Maybe not,” Kassim snorted gently, “but it's not like it would take. And hey, it would be kind of fun to see what you try to make yourselves as meals while I was dead.”

Mephiles snorted into his coffee. He didn't think he'd ever heard Kassim actually joke about his inability to stay dead.

“That's the problem with having an undead magic treasure jackal,” Scourge complained to Mephiles. “Death threats just don't hit the same.”

“I'm not undead,” Kassim muttered, mostly to himself, laying thin slices of pink fish on top of toasted bagels.

Mephiles held up a hand. “He's making lox sandwiches, so I will be removing myself from this discussion in hopes I'm spared his judgement.”

Kassim smirked at him and didn't comment but did indeed deliver two lox sandwiches to them. He’d never actually followed through on one of his threats to keep food from them.

“None for you?” Scourge arched a brow as he sat back down and lit yet another cigarette.

“Not hungry.”

“Cigarettes dampen the appetite, you know.”

Kassim laughed a little bitterly. “I don't need cigarettes to dampen my appetite. The Speaker does it plenty for me.”

“Oh, it's a freak god thing?” Scourge took a huge bite of sandwich and continued through a mouthful of food. “Did you ever tell us that?”

“Probably not.” Kassim shrugged.

“Do I smell food?” Tempest asked, appearing in the doorway and sniffing the air.

“Up again already?” Mephiles asked over his mug. Kassim got up to make Tempest a sandwich, too.

“I couldn't sleep,” Tempest sighed. “I kept thinking something was going to drag me out of the room.”

Mephiles and Scourge exchanged a look. Kassim hid his flinch by dropping another bagel into the toaster.

“No one's going to get you, Tempest,” Scourge reassured him. “Your father and I will make sure there's no one here while you go explore with Kassim.”

Tempest perked up. “I can still explore?”

“As long as you don't go too far from Kassim.” Mephiles nodded. “And don't mess with the winery equipment too much if you find it. There should be a barrel warehouse somewhere nearby.”

Tempest scrunched up his nose. “Barrels? Why would I want to see barrels?”

“They smell good,” Scourge said. Everyone turned to stare at him. He paused, sandwich halfway to his mouth. “What? Wood smells good. Especially old wood.”

Mephiles chuckled, shaking his head. And here he thought he knew everything about Scourge by now. He would have to think of ways to get him places that smelled like wood on future trips.

“Regardless.” Kassim slid a sandwich plate toward Tempest with a shrug before starting on the dishes instead of sitting back down. “We'll find something to explore.”

“Cool.” Tempest nodded and frowned at Kassim. “You're not eating?”

“Who says I didn't eat while you were trying to sleep?”

“You wouldn't be done eating if you had. I wasn't up there that long.”

Kassim flicked his ears down, voice flattening. “I'm not hungry.”

“Will you be okay to explore though? Nutrients are good for keeping you from rolling down the hill and dying.”

“I'll be fine, Rat.”

Mephiles nodded to Scourge as they finished their food. They rose, leaving Tempest and Kassim in the kitchen, discussing what they could do outside that day and how to stay dry.

“Could you—” Scourge grimaced apologetically. “Use your crystals or levitation to just get the car over the river?”

“I don't think so. Growing my crystals is much harder this far away from Iblis. I don't know if I could build anything large or sturdy enough to allow the car to cross the river.” Mephiles rubbed his cheek. “I would prefer not to test it either. The car is our only way home, bar walking. You and Tempest could get to town easily, but Kassim, Cody, and I would not be so lucky. We also don't know how bad the flooding is along the road. Which is also why I don't think it's a good idea to carry everyone over. At least here, we have a shelter and food.”

Scourge rolled his lips. “Fair. Let's get this shitshow on the road, then. The sooner we find this dipshit, the sooner we can go back to bed.”

Chapter Text

Kassim opened the umbrella he'd managed to scrounge up from his bag—the gods only knew when he'd stuck that in there—grateful he didn't take up much space so Tempest could join him underneath. The rain continued down at a steady pace, chilling the air. They'd bundled themselves up in coats and scarves, but they hadn't expected so much rain when packing—they'd brought coats for warmth, not waterproofing. The umbrella would have to do its job and they could spend the afternoon bundled up warm indoors if Scourge and Mephiles gave them the all clear.

Tempest wrinkled his nose when they trudged out into the muddy track leading down the hill. “Next vacation, beach. At least when it rains there, the sand just gets kind of clumpy.”

“Maybe next vacation without me,” Kassim muttered, lighting a cigarette.

“Why?” Tempest looked up at him with big, blue-eyed distress.

“I think I curse your trips.”

“But we went skiing that one time with you and nothing happened.”

Kassim shrugged. “Then maybe I just curse the unusual trips.”

“You weren't even a member of the family when all that stuff happened on the island.”

“Mn. Strong curse, then.”

Tempest eyed him with a frown. “You're doing that thing you do when you're freaked out.”

“What?”

“You start blaming yourself for everything when you get freaked out or something happens that you think is your fault even it's the least your fault thing.”

Kassim raised a brow at him, exhaling smoke from his nose. “Oh?”

“Yeah. You also get way meaner.”

“I thought I was always mean.”

“You're always kind of cranky and we kind of joke that you're mean.” Tempest shrugged. “But you get mean when you're freaked out but in a low key way. And you usually just start saying bad things about yourself.”

Kassim frowned. “I do?”

“Yah.” Tempest jumped into a puddle. “And anyway, you're the one that got hurt last night, so if it is a curse, it's just on you.” He glanced up at him apologetically. “I really am sorry for freaking out like that.”

“I know.” Tempest was one of the few people in his life he knew wouldn't hurt him on purpose. “But you could have just left me to—whatever that was.”

“But there was someone in the house! I couldn't let them get you!” Tempest bared his teeth at his unknown foe. “Especially cause you were acting so weird. You sure you didn’t hear me when I called for you?”

Kassim shook his head. He couldn't remember anything after he'd opened his door to look down the hallway with Tempest until he'd come to on those stairs just in time to catch him when he fell.

“Well,” Tempest linked his fingers behind his back, “maybe you should sleep in my room tonight.”

Kassim gave him a dry smile. “Are you planning on keeping me from getting out somehow if it happens again?”

“I could tackle you. I think I could take out your twiggy legs pretty easy.”

Kassim laughed. “You're probably right. My twiggy legs are good for running and kneeling in the dirt and not much else.”

“Where do you think this path goes?” Tempest changed the subject, veering off the road they’d driven in on and following a smaller road along the hill—a footpath more than a road, really. Kassim slid in the mud a bit as he threw himself after him, doing his best to keep him under the umbrella.

They passed by thick, twisted black vines, the grapes picked clear for the year and leaves withered to the ground. This place might be pretty when the vines were lively and full of color, but in the cold rain, all Kassim could think about was how much he hated wine. Something about the way the vines looked now felt more true to form, evil and dead. He shook his head. Where had that thought come from?

“So how old is this place?” Tempest asked as they went.

“Very old. At least a couple hundred years.”

“Wow!” Tempest eyed the vines, dropping his voice even though they were alone. “That means the whole thing about the bodies is definitely fake, right?”

“That they still make the soil give the grapes a unique flavor?” Kassim huffed out a soft laugh with smoke. “Yes. Although I wouldn't be surprised if they tried to create a fertilizer to mimic the chemical composition of decomposing bodies.”

“They can do that?!” Tempest bugged his eyes out at him. He nodded.

“I think so. Chemists have a lot of skills. But that's not the kind of dirt I like, so I don't know for sure.”

“But you do like dirt with dead bodies in it,” Tempest giggled Kassim laughed.

“True! But a different kind of dirt with bodies in it.”

“Did you ever find out if your whisky is grown on dead people dirt, too?”

“Ah, yeah. According to Goth, it's not.” Kassim shrugged. “He could be lying, but corn is different than grapes. I don't think you could have the same thing happen.”

“Different how?”

“You have to till the soil and replant corn every year. Grapes you just grow forever until they die or you do.” He'd looked into it just to be sure. He may be tied to the Speaker of the Dead but that didn't mean he wanted to drink corpse whisky. 

“Oh…” Tempest squinted at him. “Do you think your whisky drinking is the reason you're having a hard time here? The grapes know…”

Kassim snorted, trying not to laugh too hard at the idea. Tempest was mostly joking, but he seemed a bit serious about the idea.

“I haven't had any whisky since we started traveling. I don't know how the grapes would know if I wasn't drinking the wine or what my alternatives might be.” And drinking whisky had never made him unable to see a statue.

“What if they're magic grapes?”

“I hope they're not.”

“But what if they are?”

Kassim glanced at the black vines with a shudder. “If they are, I think your parents are more in danger than me. I don't drink wine.”

“Oh yeah. Why not?”

“Makes me sick.”

Tempest grimaced. “A lotta stuff makes you sick. Is there something I can feed you to make you healthier? You're not sick because I haven't been feeding you right, are you?”

“It's nothing you did or didn't do, Rat. I came this way.”

Tempest eyed him. “You said last night you didn't always look like you do. Does it have to do with that?”

“Yep.”

“What hap—”

“Hey, look at that.” Kassim pointed to the large structure rising out of the rain and mist, grateful for a distraction. He'd never told anyone about the ritual that had made him like he was but he didn't know how to lie to Tempest about it. It had been just over ten years and there were still nights he woke up sure he was going to feel the magic that tore through his body and destroyed his guts still wriggling through him.

The structure had been built into the side of the hill, rising up over them as they trooped down the slope to get to the door.

“Whoa! What do you think this place is?” Tempest stared up at the broad wall dotted with windows a the very top, eyes shining.

“Uh, I really don't know…”

Kassim had researched the winery a bit to keep Tempest entertained on the trip, but he'd focused more on the history rather than how wineries actually worked.

“Can we go in?”

“If it's not locked, I guess it wouldn't hurt to take a peek.” Kassim jabbed his fingers at Tempest. “No touching anything!”

“Mhm!” Tempest nodded excitedly. Kassim nodded back and they picked their way up the stone path to the door.

They both jumped and screamed when the door flew open.

Bonus Art

Chapter Text

A shocked rabbit sprang back, also screaming.

Kassim clutched his chest. It always felt wrong when his heart hammered, but usually when it did, he was running and his body knew more what do with the feeling. Right now, his body was telling him his ex was nearby and he needed to flee. It took all his willpower to stay rooted where he was.

“Who are you?!” The rabbit gasped, mirroring his action with her own chest, her voice heavy with a drawl native to the southern parts of Northammer. “What are y’all doing here?”

Kassim blinked at her. “Uh, we're staying at the winery house…”

Her eyes bugged out. “Wait, you're what?!”

“Ah, we’re—staying at the—winery house?” Kassim tried again. “The rain kind of trapped us here, so—”

“Wait, wait, who are y’all, again?” The rabbit held her hand up, frowning and adjusting her wide brimmed hat, brushing one flopping ear to the side.

“I'm Kassim. This is Tempest. The booking would have been under Mephiles?”

She wrung her hands. “I'm so sorry, but that booking should have been canceled. We lost our owners last week and the new owner hasn't arrived yet—”

“Well, we're here now.” Kassim flicked his ears back. “And the road is out, so we're stuck here.”

“We're sorry about your owners,” Tempest said. Always the polite one. The rabbit smiled sadly at him.

“Thank you. Um, let me get the winery manager to talk to you.” She gestured at Kassim. “No smoking in the warehouse.”

He nodded, looking around for an ashtray. One sat a few meters away from the door so he handed the umbrella to Tempest. “Stay here.”

“Do you know why the house is so weird?” He heard Tempest ask as he trudged over to the ashtray to grind his cigarette out and toss it into the trash can below. Alright, maybe not that polite.

“What do you mean, sugar?”

“The house is built with all these wacky angles and hallways and stuff. Is that a winery thing?”

Kassim laughed to himself as he rejoined them. Tempest was cute when he was trying to be like an adult, clearly trying to carry the conversation like Scourge did at parties. Between that and his warning to Kassim about his back last night, he was clearly spending too much time around his parents. His little hellion friends were trouble, but he should probably spend more time with them instead so he didn't start talking about stock portfolios with third graders.

“Well, it's a very old house,” the rabbit answered. “I’m sure there are going to be some oddities about it.” She smiled at Kassim and stuck her hand out. “I’m Bunnie D'Coolette, by the way. You said your name was Kassim?”

“Yep.” He shook her hand with a nod, finally noticing that one of her arms was a robotic arm, mostly hidden under her leather jacket, and let her lead them into the warehouse. It wasn’t much warmer in here but at least it was dry. Kassim shook the umbrella out and set it next to the door, sending a quick message to Scourge and Mephiles.

Kassim: There are people working here. We found the wine warehouse or whatever the fuck

He tucked his phone back in his pocket and made sure Tempest didn’t wander too far as they looked around the enormous space. The building looked big from the outside and yet was still bigger, cut directly into the hill and stretching deeper in. Stainless steel wine vats lorded over the space up front while the floor sloped down farther into the depths of the hill, barred from access by a set of double doors closed tightly.

“Whoa!” Tempest stared up at the stainless steel contraptions. “What are those!”

“Those are the fermentation tanks,” Bunnie explained. “Every year, we harvest the grapes, process them through these tanks, and then cask them to age. The older the wine, the smoother the finish.”

“I see…” Tempest nodded gravely. There he went again. Bunnie exchanged an amused look with Kassim.

A coyote approached them with a slight frown, eyebrow arched. “Yes? Who are you?”

He had a strong Eurish accent to contrast Bunnie's Northammer one, his voice rolling around his mouth and throat a bit before coming out to stretch some of the words oddly. It added to the severity of his appearance, his sharp eyes looking them up and down critically. Somehow, even through the rain, he’d managed to keep his suit brushed and pressed into creased lines. Kassim immediately wanted to drag him outside and throw him in the mud.

“Oh, good, Antoine!” Bunnie smiled at him. “I was just about to come get you. These folks say they’re staying up at the house.”

Antoine’s eyes widened. “Oh? That shouldn’t be—Oh, dear, are you with Mephiles?”

“Yep.” Kassim nodded. Antoine ground his palms into his eyes.

“Lovely. That was supposed to be canceled.”

“So we’ve heard.” Kassim frowned. “We can’t leave now. The road is out.”

“It is?” Antoine sighed, somehow putting his entire body into the gesture. He was a very expressive man, his blonde eyebrows nearly moving with a life of their own.

“Look, if you’re worried about us getting in the way here, we’ll stay in or near the house until we can leave. I’m sure Mephiles will pay for anything we eat…”

“No, no,” Antoine cleared his throat, straightening again. “I’m ze manager. Even without ze owners for ze time being, I can do my best to give you as much of ze standard experience as we can. We can at least give you a tour of the facility, if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

“Ooh, can we?” Tempest turned shining eyes on Kassim. He sighed and nodded.

“Sure. Do you need us to come back in a bit or—?”

“No, no.” Antoine waved him off. “I'm happy to give you ze tour now.” He gestured to the vats. “You’ve already seen our fermentation tanks. We're just starting our final batch of ze year. After they've mixed and begun the fermentation process, we cask ze wine back here.”

Bunnie had said something similar before when explaining the things to Tempest, but Kassim held his tongue. His dislike of the man had nothing to do with anything other than his outfit and pinched expression.

They passed along the tanks, their reflections bowing and warping on the shiny surface as they went. Tempest grinned and wiggled to make his reflection dance. Kassim kept his eyes firmly on the floor, sure he was seeing bits of brown and white sweep into view where it should be black and gold out of the corner of his eye.

“Through here are ze cellars.” Antoine shouldered through the double doors. They grated open along the slanting floor, expelling a breath of cold, damp air. Kassim inhaled the soothing scent of dirt. Dirt and something else familiar, but Tempest’s hesitation at the top of the stairs distracted him from figuring out what it was.

“Are you alright, Rat?”

“Uh,” Tempest shook his head, “yeah. I’m—I just had a weird feeling of deja vu. Or something.”

Antoine glanced over his shoulder at them, the dim lights above casting his face mostly in shadow. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah.” Tempest threw his shoulders back and stepped down the stairs before Kassim. Kassim trailed behind, like always, glancing up at the lights. Didn’t anything in this place actually light a space like it should? He was lucky—his night vision had only gotten better after the Speaker had made him their Vessel. But the people who worked here didn’t have that luxury. Coming down here must be difficult for them. Maybe they brought in extra lights when they were going through casking.

The scent of dirt and the chill in the air got stronger the farther down they went.

“Does the cold affect the wine?” Kassim asked. The winery was famous for its unusual flavor in the wine, from what he could remember form the brochure. If this temperature was normal, even in the summer, it could be unique.

“Some. Our unique grapes and ageing temperature work in tandem,” Antoine answered, his voice echoing up from below Tempest. “Ze grapes themselves have a highly unique flavor straight off ze vine.” They reached the bottom, where another set of doors lay closed. Antoine pushed them open with a flourish. “Ze cellars.”

“Whoa!” Tempest gasped, rushing forward. “There’s so many barrels!”

“How far under the hill does this place go?” Kassim couldn’t see the end of the groups of barrels lining the walls in front of them. The walls and floor had been covered by stone but it didn’t mask the damp smell of earth and wood and something that made his stomach turn. He stalled, breathing through it, using his sleeve to dampen the smell. Antoine answered his question while he struggled to get used to the smell enough that he could keep moving, the words glancing off his brain and not registering at all.

“Are you claustrophobic?” Antoine asked at noticing his hesitation while Tempest wandered around and exclaimed excitedly over how many barrels there were and gleefully observing the stains on the floor that looked like blood.

“Ah, no. I’m an archeologist.” Kassim shook his head. “I, uh, have a sensitivity to wine…”

It sounded insane when he said it out loud. He was sure no one else could smell anything other than the dirt and maybe the wood. Antoine arched a brow but didn’t comment.

“What’s through here?” Tempest called from the shadows beyond the bulbs. Kassim flicked his ears up, tension locking through him. He couldn’t see Tempest. He needed to keep Tempest in sight! Antoine strode down the room, shoes clicking harshly on the stone.

“That’s where we keep our most valuable casks. I’m sure these are what Mephiles wanted to see when he booked a stay here. I do hope he might consider taking a bottle home, even after such an unfortunate turn of events here.”

“Can we take a peek?” Tempest reappeared, grinning. Kassim relaxed, determined to stick to him from here on out. Antoine gave him a crooked smile.

“Sure, but they're not that exciting if you can't drink from them.”

“Wait, are these the casks made from the original hanging tree?” Kassim's brain stirred up the research he'd done. Tempest gasped in excitement. Antoine laughed, only a little uncomfortably.

“I see you’ve done your homework. Yes indeed, these are ze barrels made from ze wood of ze original hanging tree, ze sister tree to ze one currently standing next to ze house. Of course, some say that ze use of these casks to this day has cursed ze winery...”

He pushed the doors open, gesturing for them to enter. Tempest zipped in so Kassim sighed and followed. So much for keeping him close.

The air here was even wetter and colder. Their breaths plumed in front of them in the dim yellow light cast by a lantern lit with flame. It lit the smaller room than the dim bulbs from the cellar behind them, but the yellow light added a sickly pallor to the bare room.

This room hadn't been paved in stone. The original, wet dirt glistened in the light of the lantern, held up by thick, sturdy beams all around them. Six enormous barrels lined the right wall, suspended away from the damp floor on a wooden structure that also set the spigots about chest height, a little under that for Kassim. 

The barrels loomed darkly over them, the severe faces of the true lords of the hill crafted from the black wood of the old hanging tree. Kassim shivered from more than cold. He didn’t like this place. It set his teeth on edge. He hadn't thought he was claustrophobic at all, but this place made him question that conviction.

Tempest, on the other hand, oohed and ahhed. Well, he was half monster. He'd love a horrible little lair to scheme in.

“I would apologize for ze light, but it's part of ze appeal of ze tour and a way to keep ze wine perfect,” Antoine explained. “These were ze first barrels made for ze winery, by ze original owner after he cut down ze tree, and he set them in this chamber to make ze first perfect bottles of wine. Subsequent owners and managers have done our best to keep things as close to those original conditions as possible so each batch of our Hanging Tree Wine is ze same as it was from all those years ago.”

“This is super far to dig for six wine barrels,” Tempest pointed out. “Is it cause it's the coldest part of the hill?”

“We don't know, unfortunately, but we suspect so. As you noted in ze cellars, ze cold adds a unique quality to ze flavor.”

“Does that tunnel lead to a super secret seventh barrel that's even more spooky?” Tempest pointed to a wide, deep tunnel Kassim hadn't noticed. The entrance had looked like more shadows, even to him. He frowned.

Antoine laughed. “Oh, no. That's a collapsed tunnel from one of ze efforts for expansion from decades ago. Ze hill is full of tunnels like this. There have been several attempts to make ze cellars a more efficient system over ze years, with limited success. Some of ze tunnels make for a fun tourist visit but most are dangerous and we just try to keep them marked.” He gestured to the door leading out. “In fact, I can show you one, if you're ready to leave. You can get back to ze house without walking in ze rain as much.”

“Oh, ah, I left my umbrella at the front of the fermentation area.” Kassim gestured limply toward the double doors leading to the stairs. Antoine smiled and shrugged.

“Very well. Perhaps you can convince Mephiles to join you for another tour and you can see ze tunnel then.”

“Yah!” Tempest grinned. “This place is cool.”

They made their way back through the cellars, up the stairs, and into the relative warmth and brightness of fermentation area. Kassim rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the tension from below.

Bunnie came up to them with a smile. “Enjoy your tour?”

“Yah!” Tempest beamed at her. “I’m gonna bring my father back and show him how fancy you all are.”

“Oh, that’s nice!”

Kassim took up the umbrella without comment. He needed a cigarette.

“Ah,” he turned to Bunnie before they left, “by the way, I know you weren’t expecting us, but could you let us know who the house caretaker is? I’m afraid we may have all spooked each other last night and I should probably tell Mephiles and his husband to stop hunting them.”

She scrunched her face up in confusion. “There isn’t a house caretaker.”

“Oh…” Kassim exchanged a glance with Tempest. “We could have sworn there was someone in the house last night…”

She shook her head. “There shouldn’t have been. Some of us live on the property,” she gestured at the people working the fermentation tanks, “which is why we’re here and didn’t know about the flood, but we don’t go up to the house unless invited. And usually, that’s only Antoine.” She looked at them apprehensively. “I can see if we have anyone to spare to help you in making sure the house is empty, but I promise, we run a tight ship here. No one would try to spend the night in the house or tease our guests.”

Kassim gave her a reassuring smile, the kind he reserved for nervous donors when they visited a dig site thinking they would see something grand and just found a bunch of tired, dusty college students and even more tired and dusty supervisors sifting through dirt in a hole. “Oh, no, I’d never think that. We must have just frightened ourselves after a long day of travel and finding things not how we expected.”

She gave him a grateful smile. “We do want y’all to have a good experience here. Um, the Watcher is still next to the door, right?”

“The what?”

“The odd-looking statue?”

Kassim frowned. He hadn’t seen any—

“Oh, yeah, that thing that was in the living room,” Tempest reminded him.

“Ah—” The thing he couldn’t see.

Bunnie nodded. “It’s a good luck charm. Our local witch made it for the owners a couple generations back. They were a little more convinced of the curse here that most, so it could be unnecessary, but the thing seems to do its job.”

“Local witch?” Kassim chuckled. “That’s not in the brochure.”

“We like to keep her our little hometown secret.” Bunnie winked at him. “Too bad the road is out. I think y’all’d enjoy meeting her. Your little guy seems to like spooky things.”

“I do.” Tempest nodded. Kassim huffed down at him.

“He does. Well, once the rain stops, maybe we’ll try to pay her a visit.”

Bunnie gave them a final smile as he opened the door. “Y’all don’t stray too far from the house at night, alright? It’s not safe.” At Kassim’s arched eyebrow, she shrugged. “The hill isn’t the best place to wander, even without this crazy rain. I’m sure Antoine mentioned the tunnels. Pretty hazardous.”

“Noted. Thanks for humoring us for a while.” Kassim nodded and shepherded Tempest back outside.

Tempest threw his head back and groaned. “Now I really want to meet the local witch!”

“Want to go down near the water and see if the river is down yet?”

Tempest eyed him. “You’re just distracting me, aren’t you? Like you did with Bunnie but with less fake smiling. It’s creepy when you do that, by the way.”

“You, Rat, are too observant for your own good.”

Tempest shrugged. “Whatever.”

“So you don’t want to go look at the river?” Kassim gave him a crooked smile. Tempest rolled his eyes.

“No, duh, I do want to go look at the river. You’re so annoying.”

Chapter Text

The water still rushed over the river. Tempest rolled his eyes at Kassim from the fence line looking down at the flood. Kassim shrugged, giving him a crooked smile through a snort of smoke. 

“You know I’m supposed to take you for walkies,” Tempest insisted, hauling himself up on the fence that surrounded the property, shaking mud off his crystals and giving his feet a rest. Walking was the worst.

Kassim’s ears flicked up. He looked over his shoulder with a frown. “Did you hear that?”

“No. My feet hurt. And now my butt is wet.” Tempest grumbled, shaking his feet again. A faint chiming distracted him from his feet. “Wait, what’s that?”

“The bells—”

“From the house?” Tempest jolted up. “Doesn’t that mean that person is still in there? But my parents are in there!”

One of the crystals that made up his feet hooked into something on the fence. He squeaked in panic, jerking his leg against whatever had him. The bells sounded again, louder this time. He squeaked again and fell off the fence, caught by Kassim before he made it to the mud. His foot stuck out at a weird angle, still stuck.

“Hey, hey,” Kassim soothed over the sound of the bells. “Back on the fence and still, yeah?”

Hearing Kassim try to calm him down like that was almost as weird as watching him charm Bunnie in the warehouse. He’d only been able to do it kind of well in the last year or so. Tempest let him set him back on the fence and examine his foot.

“There’s a wire caught on your crystal. Hang on.” Kassim’s no nonsense fingers held his foot still and unwrapped the wire. All the while, the sound of the bells chimed down the hill through the rain and just loud enough to hear over the rushing water below.

“Am I gonna get tetanus and die?” Tempest bugged his eyes out at Kassim.

“No.” Kassim’s short answer was more comforting than any of his soothing had been. “You didn’t get cut. I’m not even sure you can get tetanus—Weird that there’s a wire like that on this fence, though.”

“Isn’t a fence a totally normal place to find wire? Like barbed wire and stuff?” Tempest hopped down, looking at the fence.

“Sure, but barbed wire is usually found on the top. And this isn’t a livestock fence, so there’s no need for fence wire here…” Kassim pointed to the wire lining the fence in confusion. Tempest leaned in to see what he was looking at. The wire, now a little bent and kinked from his struggles, ran down the horizontal beams of the old wood fence. There was more than one, each beam getting one of its own.

“Yeah, okay, that is weird.” Tempest tugged at the wire he’d bent. The bells chimed again, more faint this time. Kassim got very still above him as the bells died down.

“Do that again.”

Tempest tugged the wire again. The bells chimed again.

“Oh…”

“So the bells from last night—”

“Someone triggered them here.”

They looked at each other grimly.

“So my parents have been searching the house—maybe for nothing. All those bells at the end was probably—whoever leaving.”

“But that does mean that someone was at least trying to get onto the property last night.” Kassim straightened, shaking his head. “How? The river makes it pretty hard for anyone to get here.”

“And if they did, why not just walk through the gate?” Tempest pointed to the open space that made up the road between two fence posts. “Getting out of the river at the road has to be easier, right?”

“Right…” Kassim tried to hide the unease in his voice. “Maybe we should go back to the house. It’s about lunch time. And I’m sure we just freaked your parents out.”

Yeah. Tempest could practically hear his dad swearing and snarling. Wait—

“—ghost or whatever the fuck are in this fucking house!”

No that was just his dad swearing and snarling in real life, carrying down to them from the top of the hill.

“I’m positive we freaked my parents out,” Tempest told Kassim solemnly. Kassim snickered and crouched down, free hand held out behind him.

“Come on, then. Up you go.”

“I can walk!”

“But do you want to?”

Tempest sighed heavily. “No.”

“Mhm.”

Tempest used Kassim’s hand to climb onto his back and settled in to let his pet carry him back up the hill. Riding on Kassim’s back was always fun. He was tall like Father, his long legs eating up the distance with calm, assured steps, but unlike Father, Tempest could see up above Kassim’s head when he walked. Usually. Today, though, his view was blocked by the umbrella above them and all he could see was the muddy path under Kassim’s feet. Lame.

In no time at all, the hill leveled out. Dad had stopped shouting but now Tempest could hear his parents talking quietly outside the house as they approached. They only did that when serious things were happening.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Dad snapped, interrupting whatever he was saying to Father. Tempest felt Kassim’s stride falter, not quite a flinch but close, his shoulders tensing under Tempest’s arms. He tightened his grip around Kassim’s neck, trying to make the awkward hug reassuring. They both knew Dad was just shouting to vent, but Kassim had come to them with an innate fear of raised voices and they were still working through it.

He dropped down from Kassim’s back and put himself between his parents and his pet. “We went to the wine cellar. It was super cool. And then we went to look at the river and we found something super weird.”

Father arched a brow. “Oh?”

“Mhm. We found some wires on the fences.” Tempest pointed down the hill at the fences, barely visible from the front porch. “We think they’re attached to the bells. Uh, I got stuck on one and that’s why the bells started going just now. Probably.”

Dad nibbled a knuckle, pacing the porch. “So there wasn’t actually anyone in the house last night?”

“It would explain why we didn’t find anyone.” Father’s serious, gravelly voice seemed to anchor Dad, who stopped pacing with a sigh.

“Okay, so. No ghosts or axe murderers lying in wait, at least. But that means there was someone messing with the fence, right?”

“Or maybe Father was actually right and a tree branch got stuck on the fence somewhere until the wind knocked it down.” Tempest made a face. He felt a little bad about being annoyed at Father for suggesting it last night. But it didn't make sense then. And he’d been sure he saw eyes over Kassim's shoulder. But that must have just been a weird reflection or something. Father chuckled dryly.

“Then we have nothing to worry about other than the flooding and what Kassim will make us for lunch.”

“One of these days, I'm abandoning all you assholes to your inability to cook,” Kassim muttered, exhaling smoke. Tempest beamed at him as he passed him to get back inside. Dad's venting hadn't set him back to being quiet. If he was complaining, he was feeling better. Dad was like that, too, but the line was blurrier.

“I think we should open a bottle of wine to go with lunch.” Father said to Dad as they went back into the house.

“Can I try some?” Tempest asked. Father liked to drink wine regularly and Dad usually joined. He wanted to see what the fuss was all about.

“Sure.” Dad shrugged. “Might as well spoil you on the good stuff from the start.”

Father chuckled. “Careful, pet. If we do that, we won't be able to pretend that we're drinking something he wouldn't like.”

“I'd rather raise a wine snob than a kid who gets to high school and thinks bottom shelf vodka is peak,” Dad sneered.

“Hm. But what if we raise both a son who is a wine snob and a son who thinks bottom shelf vodka is peak?”

“I think then maybe we would have failed as parents. Top shelf vodka, at least.”

“You hear that, Tempest? You're only allowed to think top shelf vodka is peak. Don't let your friends in high school tell you otherwise.”

Tempest rolled his eyes. His parents were so embarrassing sometimes. At least no one but Kassim and Cody might have heard them here. He wasn't even close to high school yet. Maybe he should ask Kassim for a sip of whisky instead. There was no way his pet hadn't brought some with him, even if he protested the idea of the grapes cursing him for his tastes. Tempest had been mostly joking about that anyway.

He veered away from his parents to go look at the Watcher again, lifting up the cloth and taking in the bits of bone, skulls, bent forks, and dangling beads. His parents had opened the curtains to the living room, but the dim, grey light barely made the room any brighter than the light from the night before, casting shadows on the Watcher. It was creepy, but a smaller version would probably be kind of cool to have. Especially if a real witch made it. It still didn't make sense that Kassim couldn't see it but maybe if a witch made one for Tempest, he could ask her to make one Kassim could see. He pulled his phone out to take a picture of the Watcher and then let the cloth drop, the faint, familiar smell of tacos pulling him back to the kitchen.

He walked in on his parents and Kassim talking about the house.

“—built over several decades,” Father was saying. “All the wood, wallpaper, and designs are distinct. As though they were just building to build.”

“Strange…” Kassim said distantly, focusing on the taco meat in front of him but also getting that look in his eye like he wanted to see for himself. He couldn't help it—he liked strange things as much as Tempest did. Maybe that's what they could do after lunch.

Father pulled out one of the bottles of wine from the wine holder that stretched from floor to ceiling on the other side of the room, examining it critically. All the bottles looked the same to Tempest, but he wandered over to see if Father would let him in on his secrets. Father noticed him and showed him the bottle.

“I don't think we were supposed to eat tacos this week, but this one should pair well with it.”

“So different wine goes better with different food?” Tempest followed him around the kitchen as he searched for something, finally pulling out a weird device made up of a lever and a closed, clapping cylinder that housed a sharp, twisted piece of metal.

“Got glasses, boss,” Dad announced from the table. Father nodded and set the bottle on the counter, slotting the cylinder over the neck of the bottle and expertly moving the level up and down. A deep pop sounded from under the cylinder and Father dropped the cork out into his hand. He held it out to Tempest with a smile.

“Want it?”

“Sure.” Tempest took it and twisted it in his fingers. The cork had been stamped with the name of the winery with a little picture of the tree outside. Cool.

They joined Dad at the table as Kassim set the taco fixings on the table. Tempest checked the doorway.

“Where's Cody?”

“He said he'd get his own lunch.” Dad shrugged. “His loss.”

Kassim gave him a ghost of a smile and managed to make himself a single taco. Tempest grabbed three tortillas to start, humming happily as he put them together. Kassim had found fancy meat to mix the spices in, doing his cooking magic Tempest didn't quite get yet. He should have watched him cook instead of watched Father with the wine.

Speaking of wine, Father and Dad both sniffed the inside of the wine glasses, swirling it around and looking at it through the glass. Did fancy wine require a special ritual to drink? Maybe fancy wine magic was part of what was going on with Kassim.

“They weren't wrong. It does certainly have a unique flavor.” Father nodded after his first sip. “Very earthy. Plus a little something else that I'm not placing…”

“You would probably enjoy drinking their extra fancy wine,” Kassim grumbled. “Those cellars smelled…odd.”

Tempest frowned at him. “Really? I thought they smelled pretty good.”

“Then maybe it’s just the wine that bothered me.” Kassim shrugged.

“You said there were people working at the cellar? Do they live on the hill?” Dad frowned, setting his glass down and sliding it over to Tempest. “Here, kiddo. Small sip. Don't try to force it.”

“Sounds like it. Also sounds like they should have let us know not to come here. Something about the owners passing.”

Tempest sniffed the wine, trying to remember how his parents had done it. It smelled bitter and acidic. He wrinkled his nose dubiously but took the wine glass carefully for the sip he'd wanted.

The flavor wasn't great. It almost felt like it was sticking to his mouth on the way down, too much acid and too much sourness. He managed not to gag but slid the glass back to Dad quickly enough to slosh it around a bit.

“Um. I'm glad you like it.”

Dad laughed loud and hard. “It’s an acquired taste.”

“Or not,” Kassim muttered. Dad nodded.

“Or not. What do you say, Tempest, want to beg Kassim for a taste of whisky so you can compare them?”

“Um,” Tempest smacked his lips, the taste of wine still on his tongue. “Maybe at dinner.”

Kassim laughed softly. “What makes you think I have whisky here, Scourge?”

It was always weird to hear Kassim call his parents by their real names. Tempest always expected him to call them Dad and Father like he did. That would seem more natural.

“Well,” Dad held up a finger, “I don't think I've ever seen you travel without a bottle and,” he held up another finger, “I'm the one who picks up the mail and I've become very familiar with those black boxes from Goth. You got one three days ago. Ergo, you have whisky here.”

Kassim gave him a crooked smiled tinged with the tiredness he often had. “Touché.”

“What does that mean?” Tempest asked around a mouthful of taco.

“Tempest, don't speak with your mouth full.”

“It means I'm acknowledging your dad's very accurate point.”

Tempest swallowed. “Oh.”

“Do you have afternoon plans, Tempest?” Father asked, changing the subject.

“I think it'd be kind of cool to look at all the weird stuff in the house.” Tempest yawned. “Or maybe just nap.”

Father nodded. “Very valid, either way. What do you think, Kassim?”

Kassim jumped, ears flicking up in surprise. “Me?”

“You are a member of this family. If you would prefer a nap, I will be happy to take Tempest around the house.”

Dad made a small noise of disappointment but Father ignored him.

Kassim blinked. Tempest smiled reassuringly at him. He set his taco down slowly.

“I…wouldn't mind some time to do some reading…”

“Yeah, I can go with Father!” Tempest grinned at him. “Then I'll know all the really weird spots to show you tomorrow.”

Kassim returned his smile with a nod.

They stayed at the table long enough for Kassim to finish eating and then scattered to their afternoon plans.

Chapter Text

Dad tagged along with Tempest and Father, leaving Kassim to curl up in his room with his eReader and the cute fairy books he liked to read and never let Tempest see, which so wasn’t fair. He kept telling him he could try them when he was older, but how old did you have to be to read a book about fairies?

The house seemed to go on forever. Father pointed out every time they passed into a new what he called “era,” but most of the time, he didn't need to tell Tempest they were in a different part of the house. The wallpaper signaled it just fine. They'd kind of tried to match the general patterns, but it really just made it worse and more obvious.

“This is like if your crystals and Dad's soft things had a baby and then it got run over by a wallpaper merchant,” Tempest said, plucking at the wrinkled edge of one piece of wallpaper. Dad snorted in amusement.

“That's sure—a way to put it.”

“Okay, but,” Tempest swept his arm down another unending hallway, “why is this house like this? Victoria's house is weird but its not this weird. And Paradox has a super normal, boring house. So it can’t just be a house thing. Right? Is it a wine thing?”

Father scratched at some of the wallpaper absently. “It is a very old house. Perhaps it was built to accommodate a quickly growing family and business and then simply never renovated.”

Tempest scrunched his nose. “Still seems weird. The bells are all over the place, too.”

“One of the old owners must have been super paranoid about people climbing over the fence.” Dad planted his hands on his hips, shaking his head. “Big, isolated houses will do that to you. Makes you funny in the head.”

“Why?” Tempest wandered down the hall. “I mean, this house feels like it could make you funny in the head, but it feels built that way…”

“Being alone with no one to talk to makes you crazy.” Dad shrugged.

“That is a uniquely you perspective, pet,” Father chuckled. “I’ve spent plenty of time alone and I’m just fine.”

Dad and Tempest shared a meaningful look. Father scoffed, stalking down the hall without them. Tempest snickered and started opening doors as he followed after him, peeking inside. Dad followed along, playing light duty. Some of the rooms just sat bare and dusty, some full of clutter, and some, the closer they got to looping back around toward the original house footprint, were relics that seemed placed to impress people. He stopped at the room that was completely devoted to sewing and went inside to look closer.

A heavy, wrought iron sewing machine sat just off center, held in place by an ornate, wooden bench structure. A strange metal plate sat at an angle beneath the contraption, attached to an iron bar running along the whole thing near the floor.

“You push that plate to run the machine,” Father’s voice floated over as Tempest bent over to look closer.

“Seems inefficient to keep going back and forth.”

Father chuckled. “With your foot, love.”

“Oh.”

“Oh yeah,” Dad laughed, “I always forget you’re old as balls, boss. You probably saw these things used in real time.”

“I have a passing knowledge of them. They’re peasant devices, so no, I have never seen one used.”

Tempest pushed down on the plate with his foot, watching the pistons move the empty cartridge up and down. The faster he pressed, the faster the thing bobbed up and down. Cool. This seemed like something Victoria would like. Too bad he couldn’t take this one to her. He pulled out his phone and took a picture to send to her. Then he looked around at the rest of the room decorations.

“Do you think they used this thing to make all these props?”

“Probably not,” Dad picked up a half sewn piece of fabric, examining the stitches. “It’d be a lot of work for something that’s meant to impress tourists during a tour.”

“Oh, bummer. That’d be kind of cool.”

“Mhm.”

They turned back to Father, who was examining the door with a puzzled frown.

“What’s up?” Dad went over to look with him. Tempest pouted, unable to see what they were seeing with them in the way.

“Look at this.”

“Scratches? So what? It’s an old house.”

Tempest squirmed between his parents, looking up at what Father was pointing out. The scratches wouldn’t have been that impressive if not for the number of them. The paint on the door was battered and torn underneath them, an unpleasant look for something that was supposed to be a nice tourist room. Tempest wrinkled his nose.

“They look like someone was trying to cover something up,” he said. Father and Dad both looked down at him with thoughtful expressions.

“Strange…” Father shook his head, opening the door again.

“Just like everything else here,” Dad grumbled, taking Father’s invitation to go out back into the hall. Tempest followed, letting Father close the door behind them. Dad sighed, finding a light switch and flicking it on.

“You know, we should hunt down a shower. I don’t think any of us have showered since before we got here.”

The light from the bulb cast their shadows on the wall. Dad and Father were still talking, but Tempest stared at how weird the shadows looked. Father’s shadow rose above his and Dad’s, kinked at the neck. The shadow wavered, almost like it was swinging in the wind still rattling the windows in the rooms beyond the doors. Tempest turned to look at Father. He looked completely normal, standing with his hands in his pockets while he and Dad chatted. Frowning, Tempest looked back at the shadow. It still looked weird, but now there was another weird thing, making his own shadow stretch up to almost Father’s height, bent and twisted horribly. He squeaked and shuffled back, bumping into Dad’s legs.

“Eh? What’s up?” Dad cut himself off, looking down at him. “Whoa, what’s got you spooked, buddy?”

“The—” Tempest pointed to the shadows. They looked fine. He faltered. “Uh. Nothing—I guess—The light made the shadows look weird?”

Dad pat his back sympathetically. “Maybe it’s best to find a shower and then take a nap, hm? Your father and I will even let you have the first shower. Come on.”

That did sound nice. Tempest nodded and followed his parents down the hall.

Father turned suddenly, narrowing his eyes down the dark hallway Dad had just clicked the light off for. Dad frowned.

“What? Both of you?”

“I could have sworn I heard someone…”

“Kassim?” Tempest turned, looking for his pet. Nothing stirred in the hallway. No, of course not. Kassim was settled in with his fairy book. He wouldn’t have any reason to be hunting them down in a dark hallway without messaging them first to find out where they were.

“This is what happens when you whinge about ghosts all morning,” Father complained to Dad. “Your son and I start seeing and hearing things.”

“Well I wouldn’t whinge,” Dad mocked, “so much if your son’s pet hadn’t acted like a zombie after some creepy, mysterious bells started ringing last night.”

“You know he doesn’t like to be called that.”

“Which is why I’m not saying it while he’s around.”

Tempest snorted and rolled his eyes. His parents liked to call him “your son” when they were teasing each other around him. It was cute. And stupid. His parents were embarrassing.

They had to circle back around to the very front of the house, finding the kitchen again, before they could figure out where they were. Cody waved at them from the kitchen and the sandwich he was eating.

“Have you found the bathrooms, yet, Cody?” Dad stopped in the doorway and asked. The tamarin nodded and gestured toward the stairs.

“It’s the fifth door down on the right hand side in that guest wing.” He frowned. “By the way, I saw Kassim going downstairs when I got out of the shower. I thought he might be looking for you…”

“Hm.” Dad nodded. “Thanks. You need anything?”

“Nope!” Cody grinned. “I’ve got, like, five hundred hours of shows downloaded on my tablet. I’m great.”

They left Cody to his sandwich. Tempest frowned at his phone. No messages from either Kassim or Victoria. He looked at his parents.

“Did Kassim message you?”

They shook their heads. Father pushed him down the hall gently.

“I’m sure he’s fine. Perhaps he simply wanted to explore on his own.”

“Or maybe Goth called.” Dad suggested. “You know he likes to take those calls outside.”

Kassim did usually take his calls with his boyfriend outside—But that didn’t feel right. Tempest frowned. He didn’t like it. As much as Father joked about him and Tempest seeing and hearing things, Kassim was really the one who’d been having the worst time on the trip so far.

“Best not to worry before you have to, love,” Father said softly. “Kassim is tough, for all his skittishness. A few minutes alone outside won’t kill him. Remember, he spends half the year outside.”

“True…”

Father opened the door Cody had named, stepping in with Tempest to help him find the towels and figure out how to turn the shower on.

“This is a resort, for all its strangeness,” he assured Tempest. “I don’t think you’ll need to worry about any of us running out of hot water. Feel free to stay in as long as you like.”

The steam clouded up the room quickly. Tempest wriggled out of his clothes and stepped under the hot water with a sigh of relief. Hot water was the best kind of domestic water. It even felt good on his crystal quills. He hadn’t realized how sore his feet were until he shifted under the water and they started throbbing. A nap was sounding better and better. He hoped Kassim would be okay without him. This vacation was supposed to be fun. If Kassim wanted to spend the afternoon reading his fairy books, that should be all he did. Going outside wasn’t part of that plan.

Tempest nibbled a crystal claw. Kassim would be fine. He was fine when he went on digs and research trips and those could be dangerous. A few weird things here was nothing compared to that. Tempest could take his shower and get into his pajamas and take a nap and Kassim would be back to his fairy books by the time he woke up and then they could make dinner together or watch a show on their tablet. Or both! Yeah, that was a great plan. He nodded to himself and focused on washing his fur and ignoring the creeping feeling that someone was watching him.

Chapter Text

The chatter of Tempest and his parents died down as they moved further into the nightmarish innards of the house. Kassim was happy to let them be in the line of fire for once, pouring himself a glass of the whisky that he had indeed brought with him and burrowing into the blankets, pulling up “Fairy Lord's Forbidden Flower.” He was just getting to the good part, where the fairy lord was going to have to lay his soul bare for his beloved after betraying her trust. His toes curled at the sheer romantic drama of it all. Delicious.

He managed to read comfortably for a while until something caught his eye outside the window. This room was arranged so that his bed was pressed against the wall next to the window. An unusual layout for a guest room, but he found it cozy as the rain pattered against the window. Until the movement drew his attention. A strange movement, just down the hill. At first, he thought it was the trees moving in the wind and rain, but it was too regular for that, distracting him from the thrilling conclusion of his book. Frowning, he looked over at the forest, squinting through the beaded moisture collecting on the glass. There it was again. A dark shape moving just within the forest line, a few feet from the fence. Not anyone from his family. Surely not Cody…

He put his eReader down, the fur on the back of his neck rising. A strange need to go confront the thing and chase it away gripped him, pulling him out of his comfy bed and back into his still wet clothes. Down the stairs, past the thing he couldn't see in the living room, into his boots, grabbing the umbrella but only because it was still drying by the door, and then he was out, circling back around to the side of the house his room faced out.

The rain made it hard to see, but he could see the movement in the trees once more after searching. He hopped the fence, losing the thing when he set his feet in the mud to steady himself. 

He blinked, standing stupidly under the umbrella. What was doing out here? Had Tempest asked for something from the forest? No, that would be absurd.

Something shifted in the woods in front of him. He growled at it involuntarily, stalking forward. This thing needed to leave. To be at rest.

He stepped past an old wooden stake, so focused on the shifting shadow that he didn't notice the pink warning tape around the top of the post.

The ground gave way beneath him.

Mud and wet dirt rushed up to greet him, stones scraping along his leg and hip before his ribs slammed into the edge of the hole. The umbrella wrenched from his grip, fingers grating painfully along the handle. 

He landed hard, his ankle twisting sharply under him before his already injured hip and then his shoulder joined it. He rolled limply with a yelp and then a whine of pain. It never got easier, pain. The remains of the umbrella plopped wetly nearby. He groaned, pulling himself up. At least nothing had broken, despite the throbbing pain in his ankle. He knew how to fall better than most people, years of keeping up as much of his mercenary training as he could keeping him fit for this kind of thing. He looked up at the hole above him, grey daylight flooding down along with the rain. 

The light was enough to illuminate the space around him. He'd fallen into a carved out space, lined with worn and cracked stone and wood. Two passageways led out on either side. 

So. He'd found one of the tunnels. Found being a generous term for falling into it. And why had he been out here in the first place? He should be inside with his book and his whisky. Not half drowned in a wine warren. He grimaced. That smell was down here too.

He looked up at the hole again, searching in vain for a way out. Too high up to climb out, especially with the saturation from the rain destabilizing the soil. The rotted remains of a ladder dangled from the wall high above his head, taunting him with what could have been. That left him with the passages leading out. If there were tunnels all over the hill as Antoine had said, there would be other exits. He sighed, glancing down one and then the other. Nothing leapt out at him to tell him which way to go. 

He took the left path. 

It didn’t take long for the pale, weak light from the hole to fade away, leaving him in the damp, stale darkness. He pat his pockets for his phone, pulling it out and letting out a sigh of relief when the screen flared to life and didn’t seem to have any cracks from the fall. He flipped the flashlight on, scanning the tunnel. It wasn’t particularly well made, held in place by shambolic wooden beams that didn’t have a structured pattern to them. Tunnels built for the sake of building, it seemed. Like the house. As he went, he had to duck and hunch to avoid roots and scraping his ears along the ceiling when the uneven floor rose unexpectedly. 

This continued for several meters. His stomach chose that moment to let out a gurgle of demand.

“Oh for fu—really?” he grumbled. He almost never felt hungry so of course, his body decided that it wanted food when he was stuck underground for the near future. “Shut up.”

His footsteps started echoing dully after he turned a corner down another tunnel, his steady companion as the paths twisted and veered around with no end in sight. He glanced up at the ceiling pressing down above him. Could he climb up to the hole that he’d fallen down after all? Dangerous tunnels meant collapsed tunnels. Maybe this one didn’t have another exit. He slowed and stopped, considering the best move forward as the echoes of his footsteps looped out behind him.

No, that couldn't be right. He frowned, scuffing his boot against the half stone floor. Nothing sounded behind him. He spun, shining his light behind him, the fur along his back standing on end. Nothing moved in the beam of his light other than the roots and—

He recoiled with a hiss. Was that hair? No, that was crazy. It was just different kinds of roots. He wasn't crazy. He was just lost in a tunnel maze. Nothing he couldn't get out of. He swallowed, starting forward again. His footsteps fell dully on the walls of the tunnel until he turned another corner and the echo started again. His fur rose in response, almost painfully, something clouding his mind, telling him to turn and face his foe. He was the Vessel of the Speaker of the Dead. Whatever was behind him was not meant to walk this world. It was his duty to put it to rest if his Avatar wasn't here to do it. 

Fuck that. The Old God couldn't control him like that. He'd never been willing to do their bidding and he sure as shit wasn't going to start now. Instead, he started jogging down the passage, keeping as far ahead from the echoes as he could, keeping his head clear with the exercise. He was good at running. The tunnels twisted and branched, a tangle of directions that he couldn’t remember after a while. The whispers he could feel more than hear kept trying to get him to turn around, to stop running. The footsteps behind him kept pace, still sounding like an echo but somehow that made them less natural. 

The path sloped upward at last, the sudden change sending Kassim stumbling. The steps behind him didn’t falter, his own breaths joined by another’s. Fear shocked through him, chasing away whatever force had been trying to get him to turn around. He’d half hoped it had all been in his head, tired from everything else. He broke into a full run, pushing himself up the slope, letting out a little whine of relief at the sight of grey daylight getting closer as he went. The thing behind him was still coming, somehow managing to keep up, breath rattling—

He burst through a half rotted door, his foot catching on something that tore at his ankle and sent him sprawling out onto the wet grass. He flipped over, chest heaving, ready for the thing to pounce on him and tear at him.

Nothing.

He blinked.

The tunnel stretched open beyond the broken door, the sloping floor exposed to the rain now. The grey daylight illuminated the path. Empty. Nothing moved in the shadows beyond the light, nothing walked back to repeat those echoing footsteps. 

“What the fuck…” he panted, pulling himself to his feet. His ankle pulsed with pain. He whined, examining it. His pant leg had been torn. He frowned, picking his leg up to get a closer look. Gold glinted alongside the edge of the ruined cuff. Whatever he'd tripped on had scratched him hard. He looked over at the tunnel again. Nothing seemed to stick out long or sharp enough to cause the damage he saw. 

With a grunt, he limped away from the sagging door. Where the fuck was he? He noted a post planted by the door, the pink warning tape glaring even in the gloom from the rain. Too bad the other hole hadn't had one. 

At least he knew the direction to go to get back to the house. Up. Even lost in the thick forest that blocked his vision, he could get back. Covered in mud and with no explanation for why he'd been outside, but back in the warm house for a shower.

After running through a tunnel he couldn't stand up in and with his ankle still burning, getting to the fence felt like another insult from the winery. He didn't even have his cigarettes to ease the journey. At least the fence would alert his family that he was on his way back. Or make them believe another intruder was on the way, leading to his untimely death and more timely resurrection.

The forest overwhelmed the fence again, dense and dark. Kassim sighed, shoving through the branches. Up was the only direction he wanted to go, trees be damned.

His hand hit something wet and fibrous. He hissed, recoiling. Disgusting. He squinted in the gloom of the late afternoon at what he'd touched and sucked in a breath. 

Another noose.

Joined, he realized to his horror, by more in the tree above him. He flattened his ears back and started half running as fast as his ankle and sore legs allowed. Something pink flashed in the corner of his eye just before he burst through the trees, stumbling into the clearing around the house. The true hanging tree stood tall and black, welcoming him back to the house with a wicked spread of branches. He bared his teeth at it and ran into the door, jamming his shoulder against the wood before he managed to get the thing open and nearly falling inside with a gasp of relief.

Chapter Text

Tempest wasn't proud of how he shrieked in surprise when Kassim burst into the house.

He'd come down to find a snack after his shower while his parents took one together. Instead, he'd found his pet looking half dead and half wild, wet and covered in mud, hair falling out of its ponytail, gold eyes wide and breath coming in heaving pants.

“Kassim!” Tempest abandoned thoughts of food, holding his hands out slightly to the side to keep Kassim from bolting blinding anywhere and getting mud where he shouldn't or worse, breaking something.

The bells had jangled a bit a few minutes ago. Tempest had ignored them, assuming Father was right about the tree branches, but this time, it must have been Kassim. Why had he gone out all the way to the fence?

“Hah!” Kassim slid down the door, legs giving out under him so he landed with a hard grunt. Gold glinted around the mud spattering his right leg.

“You're hurt!” Tempest hurried forward. Kassim held a hand up, grimacing.

“Just a scratch.”

“It looks pretty bad.” Tempest pointed at the drops on the floor. “That's a drip not an ooze.”

Dad had started teaching him the severity of wounds, since they had a lot of injuries in their family and he, Paradox, and Victoria—who'd finally messaged him back when he was in the shower (she wanted one of those sewing machines for herself, naturally)—were starting to find their own adventures.

Kassim groaned, pulling his leg up and rolling his pants away from his ankle. Right above the edge of his boot, three oddly placed slashes gushed a steady stream of gold around a layer of smeared mud.

“Ah, fuck.”

“What a weird injury. We should probably clean it. Dad and Father are taking a shower right now, but we could try to find you a different bathroom. There can't be just one, right?” Tempest frowned over his shoulder at the nearly endless doors leading further into the house.

“It's fine, Rat.” Kassim pushed himself up painfully against the door. “I can wait. It'll heal.”

Tempest looked him up and down. He looked battered. Not just mud covered him. Small scratches lined his face and hands, twigs and bark stuck in his hair.

“What happened?”

“Fell in a hole.”

“A hole?”

Kassim grunted, leaving his muddy coat and boots at the door and limping toward the stairs. “A hole.”

“How did you fall into a hole?” Tempest wandered after him, confused. “Why did you go outside? Cody thought you had gone looking for us…”

Kassim hesitated on the stairs, shoulders straight and tight.

“I don’t know.”

Tempest frowned. Kassim had always been weird, but this was something beyond weird. He'd never had a spotty memory like this before.

“Would it—” Tempest trailed off, trying to find the best way to put it, “uh—make sense for us to lock you inside?”

Kassim tensed more, refusing to look at him, voice sharp. “No.”

Tempest flattened his ears back. “Sorry.”

“No, it's okay.” Kassim let out a long, slow breath at the top of the stairs. “I don’t like being locked in a room. My ex tried to kidnap me once.”

“Oh. That sucks.”

Sometimes Kassim mentioned his ex. Never anything good and never by name but Tempest knew it always the same guy. It was awkward and he never really knew how to respond.

“Yeah.” Kassim finally glanced at him like he usually did when talking to him. “I guess I just need to stick to you or your parents while we're here. Or Cody—but I don't think he'd tolerate my smoking.”

“You should definitely move into my room then. We can move your mattress in after you shower. Or maybe Dad can help me while you're in the shower.”

“Help you do what?” Dad emerged from their room, pulling his jacket on.

“Move Kassim's mattress into my room.”

Dad paused, eyebrow arching. “Okay…” Then he noticed Kassim. “Eugh, Chaos, what happened to you?”

“Fell down a hole.”

“A hole.”

Kassim sighed.

“You're bleeding.”

“I'm aware.”

“Where are you going?” Tempest asked. Dad hadn't put his old, pink lounge set on, instead wearing jeans and a t shirt under his jacket. He made a face.

“Gonna see if I can find a shed. There's a water stain or something above our bed and I want to make sure there's not a hole in the roof or something that's going to dump a bunch of half rotten leaves or other gunk on us in the middle of the night.”

“Ew. That'd be super gross.”

“Exactly.”

“Can I come?”

“Sure.”

“Um, where's the bathroom?” Kassim asked quietly before they could abandon him.

“Oh yeah. Fifth door door on the right hand side.” Dad gestured vaguely down the hall.

“Are you going to be okay or do I need to ask Father to guard you?” Tempest asked. Dad raised a brow again.

“Guard him?”

“Kassim doesn't know why he fell in the hole.”

“Well, presumably, the ground gave out—”

Tempest rolled his eyes. “Not like that! Like why he went he outside.”

“Oh?” Dad narrowed his eyes at Kassim. Kassim hunched his shoulders.

“I thought I saw something moving—I think.” His raspy voice got worse when he was uncomfortable. “Uh, I don't really know. I was in bed reading and then—I think I saw something or thought I saw something and—then I fell into a tunnel.”

“Hm.” Dad sucked his teeth. “Guess it's not the bells after all…”

Tempest frowned at him. “What?”

“We were wondering if the bells somehow triggered a weird sleep walking episode for Kassim last night. Guess not.”

Kassim flicked his ears down. “I can, uh, leave, if this is too weird for you.”

“Leave where?” Tempest gestured. “We're all stuck here, right?”

“Right…”

“It'll be fine. We'll keep you away from windows or with one of us at all times,” Tempest said firmly. Dad nodded.

“I'll tell Mephiles to check on you if you want to shower for a while.” Dad looked Kassim up and down. “You look like you could use it.”

“Hah.”

Kassim headed down the hall. Tempest and Dad watched him until the door thudded in place behind him. Dad exhaled hard, rolling his head.

“Poor Kassim. Who knew this place would be some kind of a whammy for him?”

“Is it because he doesn't like wine?” Tempest followed after him as they continued down the stairs. He still wasn't convinced his theory was wrong. Dad scrunched his face.

“Probably not. I don't think grape vines are that vindictive…”

“What about grape vines planted on a hill full of dead bodies?”

Dad hesitated at the door. “Not technically a bad idea to consider…Eh—I still don't think so. Wouldn't that make them vindictive against those of us who drink the wine? Not the one who doesn't?”

Kassim had said something similar on the hill earlier. Tempest scrunched his nose. “Oh yeah. I guess that would make more sense. Do you think he's sick? Do we need to take him to a vet?”

“I don't know if he can get sick. Ah, where'd that umbrella go? Damn. Looks like we're going to get wet.”

“Aw, and I just got warm.”

“Me too.” Dad scrubbed his fingers through his quills. “Good thing the hot water works here, at least.”

He set out to circle the house, Tempest tagging along and staring up at it from the outside. The labyrinth inside made more sense the longer he looked at the odd, jutting exterior. Nothing about the house made sense. Random doors, countless windows, and weird angles seemed to be the norm, no matter what age the wood siding seemed. The whole back of the house sagged in a way that was hard to describe. It wasn't actually sagging—someone had tried to keep it whole at least relatively recently —but the mood of the house sagged. Like Kassim when he got quiet. Maybe Tempest was just reading his pet's mood into the building. Or maybe the rain just made everyone quiet and draggy. Even Dad wasn't talking much as they marched through the wet grass in search of the sheds.

“Are you okay?” Tempest blurted. Dad jolted, whipping his head to him.

“Yeah, I'm fine. Why do you ask?”

“I don't know. Kassim is acting weird and you were super tired yesterday and that was weird and now everything feels weird—”

“Oh. Ha. Yeah. Didn’t expect that. But traveling in the rain always kind of takes me out.” Dad shrugged. “Guess that and then everything weird last night just KO'd me. We were up super early with the bells and stuff, you know. Haven't had time to recover yet.”

Tempest frowned. “Then shouldn't you and Father just move rooms and not worry about the stain?”

“We probably will—but it would still be a good idea to see if there's an issue in the attic. Then we can tell those people you met today about it and they'll know we didn't punch a hole in the ceiling if something happens.”

Tempest nodded. He could understand that logic at least. Sometimes adults had weird reasons to do something, but that seemed right. He wouldn't want to get accused of damage he didn't do. It was bad enough when he got caught for damage he did do. He didn't like getting accused of that either, even if it was true. 

A dark, twisting vine came into view as they rounded another corner of the house. It matched its friends down the hill, but reached up the side of the house, vines twisting beyond the trellis that it had been planted on originally. It was much bigger than the vines on the hill, supported by the house and reaching like it wanted to mirror the hanging tree out front.

“Whoa. That's a big grape vine.” Tempest split from Dad to go look up at it. Dad joined him, hands on his hips and squinting up at the edge of the roof.

“Wonder if this is the culprit for the stain. Finally broke something up there…”

“I didn't know grape vines could get this big!” Tempest spread his arms out. The vine was wider than he was tall and just kept going!

“Yep. They'll go forever if you don't keep them contained. That's why wineries have those open fields and trellis formations. And an army of seasonal workers to maintain them.” Dad plucked a withered grape from the vine and held it out. “Wanna try one?”

“Looks halfway to a raisin though…” Tempest took it dubiously. Dad grabbed one for himself with a shrug.

“Usually makes them a bit sweeter.”

“Oh. Nice.”

They popped the grapes in their mouths and both gagged at the same time.

The grape had been bitter, slimy, and disgusting. Tempest spat it on the ground and then spat again to try to get the taste out. He'd take another swallow of that gross wine from last night over that.

“I thought,” he choked, “the grapes here made good wine! Doesn’t that mean they—pah pah!—taste good?”

“Eugh! Yeah, it should.” Dad tipped his head back, opening his mouth to gargle with rain water. Tempest followed his example. “Maybe growing next to a house makes the grapes taste weird. Or it’s some kind of decorative grape and they’re not meant to be eaten.”

“Bleh. That sucks.”

“No kidding.” Dad shook his head. “Eugh. Alright, let’s find that shed and get back inside where we can get something good to eat.”

Tempest nodded, leaving the black, twisting vine behind them and following Dad further around the house.

Chapter Text

Of course the fucking grapes were disgusting. Nothing about this place sat right. Too bad they didn’t have the distractions of the owners showing them the best places, keeping them from seeing all the jank in the house or the weird shit that kept popping up. If the owners had been there, maybe Kassim wouldn’t be acting so off.

Kassim was an anxiety riddled, high functioning, borderline alcoholic who somehow managed to keep himself and his son out of trouble more often than not. He was reliable, despite his neuroses. Scourge had never thought to even consider worrying about him in the list of “things that could go wrong on a family vacation.” Tempest kept Kassim well fed and exercised and Goth kept him in enough whisky to drown a seal. Scourge shouldn’t have to worry about him.

An old, large shed finally came into view as they marched around yet another weird corner of the house. Scourge glanced over his shoulder at it. They were roughly at what he would call the back of the house. As far from the front door as they could get—and he wasn’t about to trust the other doors to get them anywhere they needed to go inside.

The shed door squealed along its hinges when Scourge muscled it open. A combination of age, dirt, and chemicals hit his nose, the standard shed smell. Not that Scourge had been in a lot of sheds in his life and even fewer since joining up with Mephiles. But it wasn’t a smell you forgot, really.

Scourge scanned the wall for a light switch.

“Don’t bother.” Tempest pointed up at the ceiling, his vision better than Scourge's in the dim light from the open door. “There’s no bulb up there.”

“Great.” Scourge squinted into the dreary shed and pulled out his phone to light the space up. The kinds of odds and ends you’d expect in a shed cast jittering shadows on the walls as he scanned his light over them. The harsh light from the phone had him seeing things lurking behind the power tools.

“There it is.” Tempest wriggled past him toward the very back of the shed, tugging at the ladder. It was taller than him, and unwieldy. Scourge scrambled over to help him before he tipped something over and hurt himself. He glanced at the floor as he steadied the ladder and saw a strange scuff mark in the dust and dirt around Tempest’s feet.

“Is that a footprint?”

Tempest looked at him flatly. “We walked in here.”

“No, I mean a bare footprint.” Scourge pointed to the outline of the foot, half trampled by Tempest, but clearly the arch and bare toes of a footprint. Tempest stilled, clinging to the step ladder now like a shield.

“Yeah, that does look like a footprint.”

“I mean—” Scourge swallowed the unease clogging his throat to keep Tempest calm. “That could be super old. Someone just coming in real quick to pick something up before the growing season was over.”

Tempest gave him a skeptical look that reminded him of Mephiles. Yeah, alright, it was a bad story. But what else was he supposed to say? That there might be some crazy person running around the hill without shoes on? In this weather?

A rough wail sounded from outside the shed. Scourge frowned.

“Is someone coming out one of those weird ass doors?”

“It’d better not be Kassim…” Tempest muttered, scooting the ladder out.

Another scraping wail rattled through the shed’s interior, sounding more like a person’s voice than a door hinge now. The rain must be distorting the sound.

“If it is Kassim, maybe that was your father following him. He'll make sure he's safe if he's wandering again.”

The sound came again, rising and falling rhythmically, a howling cry that was unlike any hinge Scourge had ever heard before.

“Ezra!” the cry formed words, carried along with the wind and rain, no longer sounding like a hinge but instead a high wail of grief. Scourge clamped his hand down on Tempest’s arm, instinctively shoving his phone and its light into his pocket and his son behind him, chest tight as something moved into the grey light framing the door.

A figure.

A fox woman’s figure, her face covered by long, bony fingers as the wind whipped her hair, dress, and large tail around her body. She let out another wail, the sound filling the shed and putting Scourge’s teeth on edge. Tempest whimpered softly next to him and he realized he was squeezing his arm too hard. He let out a long, slow breath, releasing Tempest without taking his eyes off the figure.

He couldn't see the features of the woman clearly, backlit by dim storm light. She continued to cry and Tempest grabbed Scourge's hand, squeezing it hard. Scourge glanced at him. His electric blue eyes shone with unshed tears at the noise. Sensitive little guy.

Scourge shook his head briefly and turned back to the woman. She stood between them and safety, her shoulders shaking with her wailing. No, not shaking. Twitching. Like a screen glitch, almost. Small, short jerks that went all the way down her arms and torso.

Tempest shifted behind him, bumping into the step ladder. It cracked against the side of the shed, the noise like a gunshot along the metal. Scourge sucked in a breath. The woman stilled. Completely. Lowered her hands to look at them, those strange, jerking movements continuing the distort her body and joints. Bright, white light glinted from the shadows of her face, where her eyes should have been. Without looking closer, Scourge just knew there wasn't anything else there. Nothing but those horrible lights, fixed on him.

“Dad!” Tempest screamed, his own wail joining the cry coming out of the woman again.

“Ezra!”

Scourge spun, grabbing Tempest and rolling to the other side of the shed, bringing miscellaneous tools and boxes down around them. Tempest squeaked under his arm, squirming to get away. He released, him, shoving him toward the door, whipping around to face the woman as she—

Had vanished.

He blinked. No sound, no silhouette, no woman.

“What the fuck…”

Tempest had taken his cue and bolted, his calls for his father replacing the woman's wail on the wind. Scourge rubbed his face, taking in some deep, calming breaths. The wind rattled the shed wall, too close to the sound of hands pounding along the sides. He shuddered, grabbing the step ladder. It would make a good weapon if the woman was waiting outside to ambush him.

Nothing tried to jump him on the way out or when he closed the shed door or when he started back around the house. He twitched, looking over his shoulder every few paces, convinced he was about to feel harsh, grabbing fingers snatching at his back any minute.

“Dad!” Tempest practically ran into him as he rounded the house, near hysterics. “You’re okay! What happened!?”

Mephiles followed, hovering quickly behind their son to keep up with him better. Scourge had only seen him hover a handful of times since they'd met. He'd all but forgotten he could do that. Tempest must have freaked him out when reporting what they'd seen. Then again, it had been freaky as hell. And even worse not knowing where the woman had gone.

Tempest bawled into his chest while Mephiles tried to soothe him and make sure Scourge was okay.

“I’m fine,” he assured both of them. “No one attacked me.”

“Wh-what?”

“What?”

Scourge shrugged helplessly. “I shoved Tempest out and by the time I looked back, no one was there.”

Tempest paled. “I didn't see anyone on my way back to the house.”

“Nor when we exited,” Mephiles said grimly.

Scourge had expected it but still, he let out an anxious, “Fuck.”

Mephiles nodded, petting him and Tempest repeatedly. He must be more worried than he let on. Scourge leaned into him, letting the motion ground him. Something had happened in that fucking shed. He just didn't know what.

“So,” he exhaled hard, “what do we do now?”

“I want to go home,” Tempest whimpered into his jacket.

Mephiles nodded again. “I think Tempest makes a good point. We should figure out a way to get over the river.”

“Okay.” Scourge hefted the stepladder again, awkwardly balancing it against Tempest, who didn't want to let him go. “What about going to check with those people Tempest and Kassim ran into? They might know a way out that's not on the map. Or at least a place we can check before having to come up with a full on plan to forge a fucking river.”

“Seems reasonable.”

“Can I stay here?”

Scourge hesitated. Tempest didn't need to come with them, but that woman was still around somewhere. She hadn't attacked them, true, but there was something way too unnerving about her to want to risk Tempest coming across her in the house. Not when Kassim was acting so off, too. If they couldn't rely on Kassim to keep Tempest safe, they'd have to bring Tempest along with them everywhere. In the years since they’d brought Kassim on, they’d never had to worry about his reliability before—

Tempest sensed his hesitation, starting to cry again. “I'm cold and freaked out and I just want to be warm and watch a show. What if I promise to lock the door to my room and keep Kassim nearby? Please?”

“Kassim isn't acting right…”

“But he'd never hurt me! And he'd never let anyone else hurt me!” Tempest's conviction almost tipped Scourge over into agreeing then and there. He shook his head.

“Lets go ask him what he thinks.”

Kassim had already burrowed back under the blankets with his eReader, hair down to dry and getting wavy. He'd pulled the curtains to block the window and poured himself a glass of whisky, his ashtray halfway full. His ears flicked up at all three of them in the doorway and he jerked up when his eyes glanced down to Tempest, who hadn’t let Scourge go the entire journey.

“What happened?”

“Had a scare in the shed. Mephiles and I want to go talk to the people at the building you found this morning to see if there's any way to get out faster than waiting for the water. Do you think you're safe enough to watch Tempest?”

Kassim's expression soured briefly before it smoothed out and he nodded, gesturing to the curtain. “Can't get hypnotized by what I can't see.”

“Okay,” Scourge rubbed his forehead. “Tempest, do you want another shower?”

“Mhm.”

Kassim heard the silent request and threw the blanket off, tossing his eReader onto the bed. “I'll keep watch in the hall.” He glanced at his phone. “Scourge, you and Mephiles should probably move as fast as you can. The rabbit, Bunnie, said the hill isn't safe at night. I'd guess it's even worse when it's raining like this.” He quirked a dry smile. “Wouldn't want you to end up in a hole.”

The hill might not be all that safe during the day, either, but Scourge didn't want to freak Tempest out more. He nodded, kissing Tempest on the top of his head before parting from him and his pet to go back down the stairs with Mephiles.

“Up down up down,” he grumbled. Mephiles was back to walking, so he nodded. Scourge glanced at him with a smirk. “You hate walking. Why don't you hover more? Do you think Tempest will develop that skill?”

“He also hates walking so if he does, he'll be delighted,” Mephiles chuckled. “I was never a child, so I don't know if his powers will depend on how he's growing. We may have a very volatile puberty era. And I don't hover much because people would notice.”

“Well, get hovering and I can run to match your max speed.”

Mephiles rolled his fur on and floated up so the toes of his shoes just barely cleared the surface. Scourge frowned up at him, now even taller than he already was.

“I changed my mind. Get back down here.”

Mephiles chuckled and tucked his feet up a bit, swooping down into the rain. Scourge rolled his eyes and jogged after, checking over his shoulder toward the back of the house. Nothing moved there but the trees.

Chapter Text

Mephiles often forgot he could hover. It simply wasn't practical in day to day office management and employee tormenting. Here, however, as Scourge ran down the hill, he could keep up with him without slowing him down as much. Perhaps, if everything else failed, he could simply carry Kassim and Cody over the river tomorrow morning at first light and they could spend the rest of the day hiking into town. He wasn't entirely sure he'd have the strength to carry Cody, but he could try. Anything to wipe the tense lines from his husband's face. 

Scourge had been rattled by whatever he and Tempest had seen in the shed. Mephiles could shrug off the mysterious events plaguing their sleep, but he couldn't ignore Scourge’s haunted look when they'd found him after Tempest had reached Mephiles. Tempest was an emotional child. His tears were expected, given how his pet had been acting and after a fright in the shed. Yet Scourge had also been shaken by what they'd seen. Scourge laughed in the face of danger or swore at it until he could punch it. He didn’t run quietly away from it. He'd gotten Tempest out of the shed and had—what? Had he thought he was going to die? Or had the woman's disappearance simply completely disoriented his idea of how to fight them danger? Too many questions.

It was time to get his family—and Cody, if he must—out of this place before anything truly horrible happened. Leave the questions behind and plan another trip to a well populated resort after all. Even if Scourge would never let him hear the end of it after.

They came to the entrance of the massive winery processing building as the sun dipped lower. Mephiles landed next to Scourge and let out a huff. The ground shifted under him, his head spinning. Scourge reached out to steady him. Hovering that fast for that long had drained him more than he'd expected.

“Depending on how long this takes, we may have to walk back—at least partly. It seems I'm out of practice.”

“What, so you have to work out your powers?”

“It would appear so.” Mephiles shrugged. 

He'd come to this reality over a decade ago and yet there were still things he didn't know about himself, especially his powers. His crystal powers waned the farther from the Iblis building he got but he didn't venture outside of Seaside City much. He hadn't had to think about his other powers often—Scourge and his security team took care of threats from afar. Neglecting his research was an oversight he would correct when they were home under Iblis's soothing support.

Scourge snorted and knocked hard and sharp on the door leading into the building. They waited a few minutes before someone opened the door, a sour looking coyote who raise a styled, blonde brow at them.

“You must be with ze Mephiles party, as well…”

He had an interesting accent, likely from Empire City or thereabouts. Mephiles vaguely recalled a similar sound from a woman he'd done business with from that area, who struggled with the common sound of “th” and stretched her vowels long and sharp.

“I am Mephiles.” He nodded and gestured up the hill. “You met our son and his pet this morning. We encountered something…strange at the house this afternoon and would like some answers.”

The coyote cleared his throat and shook his hand. “I'm Antoine D'Coolette, ze winery manager. I do apologize for ze troubles you've been having. That's not our usual standard.”

“I should hope not. It's been…unpleasant. We were hoping you could tell us if there's a way off the hill without crossing the river.”

Antoine sighed and gestured for them to come into the building out of the rain. “I’m afraid not.”

Mephiles and Scourge exchanged a glance before following him. 

“Not at all?” Mephiles pressed. 

Antoine laughed sheepishly. “It's not something that we usually worry about. It hasn't rained like this in years, not to mention most of ze workers live on the premises. As long as we have enough food to last, we usually don't worry about ze lack of access.”

Scourge folded his arms, tapping a finger on his jacket sleeve. “Do you know of anywhere off road that wouldn't be flooded? We'll pay for anything damage to the landscape, but we'd really like to leave.”

Antoine led them into his office, where a large, topographic map of the hill actually sat framed on the wall. Mephiles admired the work. It was hand painted, either old or made to look old, the topology faded in places and handwritten labels for the grape vines written in cramped ink. Antoine gestured to the map.

“As you can see, ze hill is roughly uniform. If ze road is flooded, ze whole area around the base will be, too. Not to mention, most of it is forest and I fear your car wouldn't fit through the trees. We are all stuck here quote thoroughly. You have enough food at ze house, yes?”

“We do.” Mephiles examined the map further, trying to find some weakness in the topology, some way to get over the flood. Not that Antoine had a reason to lie, but he could hope that the coyote had simply missed something. 

“Wow, are all these photos the owners of the place?” Scourge asked, distracted from their plight by the different photos lining the other wall of the office. Mephiles shot him a withering look that went either unseen or ignored. They didn’t have time for tours. The sun was setting soon and they would need to make a plan of action to get out early the next morning if they were going to end up hiking to town. This was why Tempest was so unmanageable—he took too much after his dad.

“Ah, yes!” Antoine perked up. “All the way from ze start.” He tapped a photo at the top of the wall, a faded and old fashioned portrait. “That’s Ezra and Louisa, ze first owners of winery, who planted all ze grapes.”

Scourge sucked in a breath. “Did you say Ezra?”

“Yes?” Antoine turned a confused expression on him. “Why?”

“Um, our kid’s pet mentioned the name. He’s big on history. Uh,” Scourge cleared his throat, lying badly, “could you tell us about him—them?”

“Ah, yes, I remember that he was…interested…” Antoine eyed him, but shrugged and tapped the photo again. “They were ze original owners of ze vineyard and winery, planting all of ze original plants and building ze original house. There are still parts of that first house in ze winery now, and I’m sure you’ve noticed that there have been several renovations between now and then.”

Mephiles drifted closer to get a better look. Ezra and Louisa stood in front of the twin oak trees by the house, a pair of foxes, flanked by four children, two boys and two girls, ranging in age—although Mephiles was terrible at guessing how old mortals were—they could have been anywhere from five to seventeen. 

“Ezra bought ze land for cheap, an oddity in ze area with very little prospect. No one knew how fertile ze hill was back then, you see. They all assumed it was cursed, after so many hangings and burials on ze land. Yet within six years of buying ze land and planting ze grapes, the winery was already hailed as one of ze best in ze area, clamored for by nearby nobles.” Antoine gestured to the next frame, where an old wine label had been carefully preserved. It was not much different than the wine label now, proudly displaying the image of the twisted hanging tree, with a carefully printed year: 3043. “It was a thriving business. The family prospered. They built additional parts to their house and ze cellars, below where we are now. And then,” Antoine spread his fingers, “they vanished.”

Mephiles found himself drawn into the story, trying to ignore the itch to get Kassim to steal the original label for him. “They vanished? But the winery is still here and still using the same grapes and label?”

“Ah, yes. There was a younger brother who eagerly took up ze winery, you see.”

“I see…”

“Let me guess,” Scourge snorted. “The brothers didn’t get on?”

Antoine nodded. “Oh yes. Ze younger brother, Maximilian, believed that he should have been given a piece of ze success. We don’t know why—Ezra clearly purchased ze land with his own funds. There have been rumors on ze reason for years. Some think that Maximilian simply believed that ze family should all share in ze profits. Another theory is that Ezra purchased the land using an inheritance that Maximilian thought should have gone to him. Others think that perhaps Maximilian suggested buying ze land and once Ezra managed to prosper, he thought he deserved a share in ze success for his suggestion.”

“Didn’t anyone investigate him when the family here vanished?”

“Of course, but ze authorities found nothing amiss, according to ze records and stories. Maximilian always denied any part in ze disappearance, of course.”

“Uh huh,” Scourge didn’t sound convinced. Mephiles agreed. There was no doubt that this Maximilian murdered his brother and his brother’s family for the winery. It was what he would have done. 

“No bodies were ever found?”

“No. No evidence at all.” Antoine shrugged. “Ze owners of ze winery have been descended from Maximilian ever since. After a while, no one really cared to find out more about ze disappearance. Ze winery is simply too profitable.”

A knock came at the door. Antoine gave them an apologetic look. Mephiles waved him on. The coyote opened the door to a cheerful rabbit who took a double take at them. 

“Oh! Sorry! I was coming to see if Antoine was ready to head home. It’ll be dark soon.”

“Ah, really? I got so carried away—we were discussing ze history of the winery.”

She brightened. “Ooh, did you get to the disappearances?”

“Of course.”

“You know, everyone knows Maximilian killed them,” the rabbit grinned at Scourge and Mephiles, “and that the land was cursed for it.”

“Bunnie!” Antoine balked. She shrugged.

“It doesn’t make the wine taste bad. The curse is said to mostly haunt the house and the family.”

“A curse?” Mephiles exchanged a look with Scourge. Kassim seemed to know about curses. Perhaps they should ask him about it. 

“Mhm. A lot of the owners and their children die pretty horribly. Maximilian himself drowned in a vat of wine, or so they say.” Bunnie stepped into the office, trailing her hand—a robotic hand—down the wall. “Every generation faces a tragedy of some kind. A loss or an injury, something always happens.”

Mephiles examined what she pointed to. A missing arm here, a photo before and after with a missing family member, blindness. Every single set held something tragic. He glanced at her robotic arm. 

“A tragedy such as falling through a hole in the ground?” he muttered to Scourge. Scourge frowned at him.

“We’re not part of the family. And Kassim came out fine.”

“He came out fine. We don't know how he went in. Perhaps the curse simply takes someone in the house if it’s time. You know he would never say if anything worse happened.”

“Did you say falling through a hole in the ground?” Antoine turned to them with a frown. “Was someone in your party hurt?”

“Not at all. Don’t concern yourselves with us.” Mephiles waved him off. “Do any of your stories include seeing mysterious people at the house? Who vanish from sight?”

Antoine and Bunnie gave him smiles that were much stiffer now. Antoine cleared his throat. “What a strange occurrence. I don’t think I’ve heard of anything like that.”

Mephiles narrowed his eyes, but Bunnie cut in before he could press the man. “I’m so sorry, but it really is getting too dark to stay. You two should be getting back to the house—it’s much too dangerous to be out after dark on the hill. Holes and all that.”

“Yes, yes.” Antoine nodded. “You can come back tomorrow if you have further questions or if you would like a tour of ze cellars as well. Your son and his—companion seemed to enjoy it.”

Bunnie pulled him out. Scourge and Mephiles followed, waiting as he locked up. 

“We might just take you up on that offer,” Scourge laughed to them. “If we really are stuck here until the water goes down, we might as well try to get a little bit of our planned vacation out of it.”

Antoine smiled. “Your son and his companion weren’t keen on tasting ze wine. I would hope that you might be more agreeable to it. We’d be happy to give you a full tasting here—sans food, of course, but we will make do.”

Mephiles nodded. “As Scourge said, we’ll take you up on that offer. Have a good night.”

“You too!” Bunnie smiled at them, something flickering in her expression as they parted ways outside the warehouse, her voice flattening from cheerful to concerned. “Stay safe.”

Scourge frowned up at the sky as the managers made their way down the hill. “It’s too dark to run now. I don’t want to risk falling into a hole. One hole encounter per day seems ideal. Especially when Kassim is the one to deal with it.”

“Come on, then, pet,” Mephiles chuckled, scooping him up and floating up off the ground. “I’ll take you back, guaranteed no holes.”

“My hero.” Scourge gave him a crooked smile. “Taking me back to the murder house in style.”

“Good thing we’re not strangers to that, eh?”

“I guess,” Scourge snorted. “Do we bring up the curse before or after Kassim feeds us?”

“After. Wouldn’t want to upset him enough to actually have him follow through on his threat to leave us to our own devices.”

Scourge laughed. “True!”

The house loomed up in the gloom, lights flooding the windows and guiding Mephiles to the welcome warmth and shelter from the rain. Cursed or not, it was better than spending the night in the cold darkness that chased his heels, unease prickling along his spine. The wind wailed across the hill, sounding like a woman’s cry.

Chapter Text

“No.”

“Come on, Kassim! It’ll be fun!”

Kassim looked at the hatch and then back down to Tempest, exhaling smoke through his nose, unamused. “I thought you wanted to watch a show and be quiet tonight.”

“Well I did but then I saw the stepladder when I went down for snacks and I dunno, seeing the attic would be fun.” Tempest shifted from foot to foot. He felt restless.

“You know if you get hurt up there, your parents are going to throw me into the walk-in freezer,” Kassim said dryly.

“They wouldn’t do that to you! And anyway, how could I get hurt in an attic?”

“Anything is possible…”

“Come on, Kassim!” Tempest begged again. If he begged enough, Kassim usually caved. His pet was being more cranky and stubborn than usual tonight but he finally sighed in that way that told Tempest he'd won, pulling his still drying hair back in a low, messy ponytail.

“Fine. You said your dad left the stepladder downstairs?”

“Yay!” Tempest cheered, leading him down the stairs to the stepladder and skipping with him back to the hatch. Kassim set the stepladder carefully under the frame, squinting up at it.

“There's a lock on the door.”

Tempest deflated. “Aw, what?”

Kassim grunted, climbing the stepladder and fiddling with the lock like he had when they'd gotten to the house yesterday. It came undone with a scraping screech that hurt Tempest's teeth. He shuddered. Kassim pushed the hatch open, his thin arms and shoulders straining under his sweater, the groan of old hinges echoing through the space above and down the hall until the growing shadows swallowed it up. Kassim half disappeared behind the echoes, sticking himself into the open hatch and turning his phone light on. Tempest crowded under him, unable to see anything other than the grim set to his mouth. But that was normal.

“Seems safe enough,” he finally announced, looking down at Tempest. “There's also nothing up here.”

“Let me see anyway!”

Kassim set his phone down on something above and bent back down, folding like an extra step to the ladder, holding his arms out, fingers locked together. “Up you get, then.”

Tempest eagerly scrambled up on his hands, letting him boost him into the space. He giggled in excitement, twisting to look around. The floor was solid, like in the movies, an easy crawl all the way down as far as he could see. The heavy beams above him had cracked with age, repaired here and there with glue and metal cross sections. Not so much like the movies…

“Come on!” He turned breathlessly to Kassim, who watched him warily from the ladder, his arms folded in front of him on the floor. “It’s safe!”

Kassim sighed, hauling himself up, staying hunched in a crouch as though ready to pounce on anything coming at them through the shadows. Tempest stood, pulling out his own phone to sweep the light around the vast space.

“Wow. There's like a whole second house up here.”

“Mn.”

“Oh don't be like that.” Tempest swung his light around to stick his tongue out at Kassim, accidentally hitting him in the face with the light. “Ooh! Sorry!”

“For what?”

Kassim hadn't moved, not even to flinch. Tempest frowned uneasily.

“For…catching you with the light?”

“Oh.”

Tempest leaned close to him, basically eye to eye for once. “Are you okay?”

Kassim arched a brow, his usual annoyed expression settling in place. “Yes? I have anxiety, not consumption.”

Tempest wrinkled his nose. “What? I mean, yeah, you definitely don’t consume a lot other than ginger ale and whisky, but—”

Kassim laughed softly. “Consumption is an old word for tuberculosis.”

“Oh. Well, you're thin enough you could have tuberculosis…” Tempest squinted at him. Paradox had gotten into diseases for a bit when they talked about the pox that swept through the Dragon Kingdom and into the Steppes at school. He remembered that tuberculosis was highly contagious. Kassim wouldn't risk him catching it if he really did have it so he definitely didn't. But what if he had some kind of magic tuberculosis?

“I don't know if I can get sick now.” Kassim flicked his fingers at him before he could ask what that meant. “Lead the way, Rat.”

Dad had mentioned something about a stain above their room. Tempest looked at the hatch, orienting himself to the hallway and where his parents’ room was.

“I'm pretty sure it’s that way.” He pointed to the left, starting off to explore. The boards creaked as Kassim stood, hunched against the ceiling, and followed cautiously.

“What is?”

“Oh, Dad said there was a weird stain on their ceiling. That was the whole point of getting the ladder.”

Something scuttled out of the darkness. Tempest squeaked and jumped back, bumping into Kassim. It was just a Scuttly, long legs and shiny body flashing in the light of their combined flashlights. Kassim steadied Tempest, one hand resting reassuringly on his back.

“Are you sure you want to explore?” he asked gently. “You had a very eventful afternoon.”

Tempest straightened and nodded. “I’m fine. Not like anything here is actually scary. Just all dark and stuff. Like you.”

Kassim laughed softly behind him as he started forward again.

The attic really wasn't scary. There wasn't even anything cool or weird up here. Just boards and beams that Kassim had to duck under.

Finally, a dark blemish on the boards fell under their lights.

“Ooh, whoa, look. How weird.”

The stain spread thick and dark, somehow both dusty and glistening with damp under the lights. Tempest swung his light up to the roof. It didn't look damaged.

“This is quite large…” Kassim murmured, sweeping his light along the stain.

“I guess Dad was right.” Tempest crouched down next to it, reaching out to touch the surface to see if it was really wet or just weirdly sticky. Kassim's hand snapped down around his wrist.

“Don't touch it,” he hissed.

Tempest flinched back. Kassim's voice had gone harsh and sharp. Like it had when he'd said he didn't remember why he’d gone outside. His eyes, caught in the light from Tempest's phone, had gone weird again. Glassy and flat, not quite seeing.

“Kassim,” Tempest begged quietly, “you're hurting me.”

Kassim's eyes focused. He let go with a harsh breath.

“Tempest, I’m sorry, I—” He took a step back, catching the edge stain with the heel of his foot. A thick, sticky liquid bubbled up, the wood squishing and gurgling under his weight. Tempest grabbed him and hauled him back before his foot went through the ceiling. His foot left a red, smearing mark where he landed. The stains on the stone floors of the cellars flashed through Tempest's mind.

“Is that wine?” He gasped, gripping Kassim's hand tight. He whipped his light around, looking for whatever random wine barrel had sprung a leak in the attic. He didn't see any barrel but did see how the stain smeared at the edges on the other side. Had the been like that this whole time?

Kassim hadn't answered him, not even giving him a sarcastic comment. He glanced up at him, once again seeing that dull, flat eyed look. He tugged at his pet and Kassim followed, silent and looming above him. At least he still took direction.

Maybe the barrel had been knocked over and then moved and still leaked. If he could find it, he could tell Dad where it was and he and Father could move it or plug the leak and they wouldn't have to worry about the stain.

A heavy miasma had started spreading through the attic with the oozing liquid stuck to Kassim's foot. The creaks from Kassim's steps seemed to stretch further into the darkness behind them, their lights lost to the darkness in front. Tempest squeezed Kassim's hand again, following the thick, sludgy drag marks. They ran for several feet before smearing away to almost nothing. Tempest followed along where the smear led, finding droplets of the same ooze on the floor leading further through the attic.

Kassim followed, leaving sticky steps in between the creaks of the floor. His silence unnerved Tempest. It wasn't his normal quiet, the solid, reassuring kind. It paired with the limp hand in his grip, the memory of his dull, almost empty eyes. Something was wrong with him. The attic miasma got him. But Tempest still wanted to keep him close and find the wine barrel. Or whatever it was.

Another hatch came into view, a handhold visible. Tempest frowned. The ooze drops led to the hatch. He glanced up at Kassim again. Okay. Getting out was more important than finding the source of the liquid. At least he could tell his parents about what they'd seen.

He tried the hatch. It rose a smidgen before clunking hard against a block. It must be locked like the other one. Back around the stain and to the other hatch it was. He wished Kassim would make a snide comment about the hatch or even acknowledge how gross it was that he’d stepped into the thick liquid.

A soft sigh sounded from behind them. Tempest stiffened.

His pet came to life again, tightening his grip on Tempest's hand and pushing him hard to the floor. Kassim crouched low over him, a deep, rumbling growl vibrating through his chest. The fur along Tempest's spine rose. He'd never heard Kassim make that kind of noise before. He tucked himself under him, looking out into the darkness where Kassim faced.

Deep in the shadows, two pinpricks of light shone in their direction.

Chapter Text

Tempest froze. Kassim growled again. The lights didn't move.

He wanted to pretend the lights were reflections from his phone and Kassim was overreacting, but his light was focused on the floor just in front of the lights and he'd swept it around enough to know there wasn't anything shiny in the attic.

What was he supposed to do?! Had the woman from the shed followed them up here? Why? At least she wasn't screaming this time. Tempest sniffled, pushing himself back until his spines pressed into Kassim's chest. Yes, that was safe. Kassim was acting weird but he was still safe. Definitely safer than confronting the thing in the shadows alone.

Kassim moved forward, almost on all fours, a softer growl rumbling out of him, pushing Tempest with him. Tempest squeaked, not ready to try to attack the shape but not willing to leave Kassim. Still, he flailed, half digging his feet in and pressing back against his pet, glancing up at him.

“Kassim, stop!”

He did. The growl stopped too. Tempest whipped his head back around to the attic, trying not to scream.

The lights were gone.

Tempest frowned, crawling forward. Kassim kept pace, still hunched over him protectively.

The light didn't pick up anything as they moved. Another Scuttly crossed the beam but the lights didn't reappear. Eventually, wooden beams loomed up in front of them. The wall of the attic. Nowhere to go.

Tempest looked around, swinging his phone around with a frown. Where had the thing gone? It had to be still around, right? Kassim would be back to normal if it was really gone.

The light caught on something wedged between the support beam and the wall. Tempest stood up carefully, leaving Kassim where he crouched, and tugging at the object. It was a book, old, worn, and cracked. He glanced at Kassim again.

“Can't you help me?”

Kassim blinked. Some awareness seemed to come back into his eyes. Tempest perked up, stepping back from the book and shaking Kassim's shoulders.

“Kassim! I need help with something!”

“With…what…?” Kassim's raspy voice sounded like he hadn't used it in days. “Where are we?”

“Still in the attic. Look, I found a book.”

“A…what?” Kassim shook his head, his hair falling out of its band a bit. He looked extra tired. Tempest pointed his light at the book. They'd go back down as soon as he got it and the they could spend the rest of the evening looking at their new treasure and telling Dad and Father about it.

“Come on, help me get this out.”

“Ah…sure.”

Kassim moved around him, tugging at the book gently, moving it in and out. The leather cracked, despite his best efforts, some of it left behind as he extracted the book. The pages stayed intact, at least. Tempest grinned and shook Kassim's arm.

“Hey! That's super cool, though!”

“Um…” Kassim blinked again in the dim light from Tempest's phone. “What…happened? Where did the stain go? Why—why is my foot sticky?”

“Uh, I think the stain is over there.” Tempest pointed into the darkness. “I don't see the light from the hatch, so we should probably go find it again to get out. I found another door, but it was locked.”

“Did I hurt you? I remember you said—”

“It’s fine. You squeezed my wrist a little hard cause you didn't want me touching the stain.” Tempest grimaced and pointed to his foot. “You stepped in it though. Maybe that's why you started acting weird.”

“Mn. Maybe…” Kassim sighed, patting his pockets for his phone. “Where's my phone?”

“Oh…shouldn't we see the light from it?” Tempest frowned. “If you dropped it, it’s probably by the stain.”

“As long as it's not in the stain,” Kassim muttered. Tempest giggled, the sound breaking some of the lingering miasma. His breath puffed in front of him. Had it been this cold before or was the attic just cooling down faster than the rest of the house as the sun set?

They made their way back through the shadowy attic, following their scuffing footsteps in the dust on the floor. Tempest frowned. The footsteps seemed off. More scuffed or more more than there should have been. But he'd been kind of crawling and so had Kassim. He hadn't really paid attention to their path through the attack while Kassim had growled at the thing in the shadows.

The stain seemed worse when they reached it. Darker, wetter. The edge where Kassim had stepped had smeared, a smaller version of the mark on the other side now hidden in the shadows beyond Tempest's single light source.

“This…pool is very strange,” Kassim murmured, looking around. “Where's my phone?”

Tempest swung his light around. Nothing. Instead, he saw something that chilled him.

Footprints.

Smaller than Kassim's. More normal than his. Crossing over their singular path leading toward the stain.

“Kassim…” Tempest swallowed hard, grabbing Kassim's shirt and crowding against his side. His pet wasn't growling. That was a good sign, right?

“Fuck…” Kassim breathed, tense under Tempest's hand.

“I want to get out,” Tempest whimpered. “I want my parents.”

“Yeah. Yeah, Rat. We're getting out. I'll find my phone tomorrow.”

This felt oddly familiar, especially when Kassim hauled him into his arms. Tempest twisted to keep his light in front of them, aimed down at the footprints to guide them back to the hatch.

Kassim's footsteps echoed weirdly. Tempest gripped his pet's shirt, trying not to panic. Whatever had been in the attic had to be gone.

“Don't stop,” he whispered, the fear of the echo overriding his sense. Kassim nodded as the edge of the open hatch appeared. Kassim didn't hesitate, going as fast as the ceiling allowed and dropping straight through. He hit the stepladder wrong, his momentum carrying them both off the edge of the top step. Like the night before, he curled protectively around Tempest, hitting the floor with a hard grunt. That feeling of deja vu spun around Tempest’s head but it was gone before he could put his finger on why.

They groaned, untangling from each other. Tempest checked to make sure his crystals and spines hadn't poked Kassim again as he scrambled off him. No gold where it shouldn't be. Whew. The only casualty of the fall was Kassim's hair tie, leaving his hair long around his shoulders as he sat up.

Something clacked above them. Kassim moved between Tempest and the open hatch.

“Isn't that your phone?” Tempest recognized the bright phone case and little dangling charm attached to it that always seemed out of place for someone with Kassim's attitude.

“Yes…” Kassim stalked forward, setting the stepladder back up. Tempest fidgeted uneasily. Where had the phone come from? Wouldn't they have seen it, even in their rush to get down? Kassim had had it until he’d touched the stain. It couldn’t have gotten to the edge of the hatch like that if Kassim had just dropped it.

“I don’t like this,” he said softly. Kassim glanced over his shoulder as he climbed up.

“I have to close the hatch anyway.”

They had to close the hatch. Tempest knew that down to his bones. He needed Kassim to hurry. Kassim reached into the darkness, struggling to close the door with a grunt.

Terror seized Tempest as something moved behind Kassim. Bitter, sour fear flooded his mouth and choked his throat.

Grey, furless, twisted fingers rested on the phone and curled around the edge of the opening. Parts of the ring and middle finger were missing, pale stubs shorter than the others, giving the hands a half dead look. No, a full dead look.

Like last night, two, luminous eyes shone over Kassim's shoulder, fixed on Tempest.

“Kassim!” Tempest wheezed around the fear, tears starting to slide down his face. “Behind you!”

Kassim whipped around, letting out a bark of surprise that turned into a snarl. He lunged at the eyes like a madman. The phone slid off the edge as the fingers disappeared, smashing down onto the floor. The hatch crunched down on Kassim's hands and head. The snarl turned into a yelp and he toppled off the stepladder for the second time. Tempest jolted forward to try to catch him too late. The snap of Kassim's collarbone reverberated through the empty hall. Tempest howled in fear and shock as Kassim screamed, curling around himself.

“Kassim!”

He glanced fearfully at the hatch, crystals standing on end, ready to defend his pet, breathing fast and hard. It remained closed. The groan of the hinges would give away anything trying to get out. He'd hear it opening even through Kassim's pained panting.

“Kassim!” he sobbed, scrubbing tears back, hovering over Kassim, unsure what to do. “Please get up! I’m sorry!”

“Not—not your fault,” Kassim hissed between his teeth.

Tempest couldn't help looking up at the hatch again. Still nothing. Just a normal attic door.

Then a shadow appeared at the end of the hallway.

Chapter Text

Tempest's terrified scream pulled Kassim up through the pain in his shoulder. He made it to his feet, putting himself between Tempest and the new threat coming down the hall. He bared his teeth, vision swimming.

“Tempest?!”

Scourge's familiar voice made him sag with relief. Tempest bolted past him to throw himself into Scourge's arms, bawling. Kassim bent to pick up his phone before limping over to them, holding his injured arm tightly. Mephiles joined them as he did, arching a brow at them.

“This isn't what we expected to find on our return.”

“Yeah,” Kassim shook his head. A terrible idea. Pain shot up his neck and head. He whined, gripping his arm. “Can you lock the attic hatch? I'm…not really able to now.”

Mephiles took in the way he held his arm and nodded, striding down the hall, righting the stepladder and firmly sliding the lock in place. Kassim sighed in relief. Whatever the thing in the attic was, the locks would keep it at bay long enough for them to figure out a plan.

Tempest was trying to tell Scourge what happened through his tears. Scourge was trying to soothe him, smoothing his quills back and ushering him further down the hall toward the stairs.

Mephiles joined Kassim behind them, arching a brow. For someone without a mouth, he managed to say a lot with just his face.

“Tempest wanted to explore the attic,” Kassim muttered. He should have been better at pushing back against Tempest’s idea. Then again, the attic hadn’t seemed dangerous at the time.

“And that somehow ended with you with a broken shoulder and Tempest in tears?”

Kassim sighed. “There was…something up there. No, before you ask, I don’t know what it was. I—lost time again.”

Mephiles narrowed his eyes at him. “Again?”

“I kept Tempest safe!” Kassim snapped, flicking his ears back. More pain shot through him, turning his stomach. He didn’t know what had happened, but he knew that for sure. He kept Tempest safe. That overrode whatever else was happening to him.

He gripped his phone tight with his good hand. He should call Goth. He wanted to call Goth. Whatever was happening him had to be something the bat could find an answer for. And he wanted to hear his boyfriend's voice. Goth pissed him off a lot but he could also be gentle and sweet when he wanted to be. Maybe he could help Kassim feel better while he waited for his arm to heal. He still had the better part of an hour.

“There's something in the attic?” Mephiles asked, pressing the topic. “What something?”

“A monster!” Tempest whimpered. “It tried to get Kassim.”

Kassim frowned in confusion. “When?”

“When you were closing the door,” Tempest sniffed. “You tried to attack it.”

“I did?”

“That's how you hurt your shoulder.” Tempest frowned. “You don’t remember that either?”

“No…” Kassim said slowly. He was tired of not remembering. His arm throbbed all the way up through his neck and head. For once, he wanted someone to touch him, to take the pain away while he waited to heal. Unlike Tempest, he didn’t have a parent's arms to fall into. All he had was Goth and Goth wasn’t here. He swallowed a small sob. He couldn’t upset Tempest more. It wasn’t his fault any of this was happening.

They made their way down the stairs. Scourge and Mephiles had turned the lights on, bathing the house in warm yellow. A far cry from the dim light of the hall and their phone lights in the attic. It could almost chase away the memory—such as it was—of the events in the attic.

Kassim let out a half laugh. “Looks like you might be on your own for dinner after all, unless you're keen to wait an hour.”

“An hour?” Mephiles assessed his arm.

“That's how long it takes.”

“That wasn't the case before.”

Kassim cut Mephiles a look. “That was different. An hour for regular injuries.”

“Ah.”

Thirty minutes for death. An hour for injuries. That was the formula he knew by heart now. Sure, he could go kill himself in the bathroom to make it easier, but something about that idea made his skin crawl. Death wasn’t…good here.

He shuddered. This place was giving him strange thoughts. His connection the Old God of the dead was something he preferred to ignore or tolerate, not dwell on like this.

They made it to the kitchen. Kassim sighed, settling into a chair, careful not to jostle his arm. It had been a long time since he’d had an injury this bad. He wasn’t sure how to hold himself to keep it from hurting. Scourge sat Tempest next to him, kissing his temple and rummaging around in the freezer, coming back with a bag of ice wrapped in a towel.

“This should help the pain while you wait.” He grimaced. “It’s been a minute since I fucked myself up that bad, but I remember ice helps with swelling.”

Kassim nodded shallowly, pressing the ice to his arm just under the break. He remembered that from mercenary training at least. It still sent pain screaming up through his head but it helped when the pain subsided. He closed his eyes, breathing through it.

“I'm sorry,” Tempest said again, quiet and subdued. Kassim opened an eye.

“You don't need to apologize every time I get hurt, Rat.”

“But you wouldn't have gotten hurt if I hadn't wanted to go into the attic.”

“No. I wouldn't have gotten hurt if there wasn't something here fucking with us and my head. You know there was nothing up there that was dangerous until…” Kassim frowned, staring at the wall over Tempest’s head. That was the best he could do. Tilting his head down wasn’t an option. “I stepped in that—sticky stuff, right? The stain?”

“Stain?” Scourge asked. “Is that why you went up there? Because I told you about the stain?”

“Uh huh. We found it.” Tempest perked up a little, some of his usual spark coming back. “Oh, and this book.”

A soft thud accompanied the statement. Kassim flicked his eyes down to look at the book. It looked even older than it had felt in the attic.

“Hrm. Probably shouldn’t be fucking with that stuff. Who knows what triggers any of the weirdness here.”

“The real question is, why is Kassim the only one affected by the…phenomenon?” Mephiles mused, drumming his claws on the table. Kassim almost turned to look at him before he remembered his arm. Scourge made a noise of agreement.

“Yeah, true. What is it about this place that fucks with a magic treasure jackal? It’s supposed to be just a winery.”

“The winery manager seemed convinced this place was actually cursed. Magic affects magic unexpectedly?” Mephiles rubbed his chin. “I could see worldly magic rubbing up against godly magic strangely.”

“There's a local witch,” Tempest piped up. “Bunnie said she made the statue in the living room that Kassim can't see.”

“Antoine said the curse goes back almost two centuries,” Mephiles sighed, getting up and joining Scourge. The smell of cooking oil drifted over from the range. Kassim twitched. They were going to burn whatever they were cooking. He couldn't do anything about it. His collarbone ached, pain held back by the ice and his forced immobility. It had subsided to a dull throb as long as he didn't move his head or breathe too deep or move his arm.

“The local witch line could go back as far as the family that owns this place. Bad blood, perhaps,” Mephiles hummed thoughtfully.

“But if it was bad blood, why would the witch make the statue?” Tempest sighed. “Bunnie said it was for protection.”

“Perhaps the original witch was attached to the original family and cursed the brother for killing them. Then this new witch took pity on the descendants and gave them the statue.”

Kassim flicked his ears up. “Killing them?”

“Oh yeah,” Scourge laughed. “We got the whole story. The original owners of the winery vanished mysteriously and the younger brother of the husband conveniently inherited.”

“Oh yeah. That sounds like murder alright,” Kassim sighed at the wall he could look at. How long did he have left? He hadn't picked a wall with a clock. Fuck.

“Mhm. Guess that’s what everyone thinks. I mean, it kind of doesn’t matter, cause it was two hundred years ago or whatever. But still…wonder where they buried the bodies. Antoine said they never found them—Ah fuck!”

The smell of burning toast filled the room. Right on time. Kassim had yet to see Scourge cook anything other than ramen and plain toast without burning it.

“You seem to know about curses, Kassim,” Mephiles said, setting a half burned grilled cheese in front of Tempest, who grimaced but didn’t complain. “What do you think? Could there be a curse here?”

“Sure. Nothing I can do about it though.”

“Ah…”

Kassim laughed softly. “Not the answer you wanted?”

“I suppose I expected more. You seemed quite convinced the Girovega island dig was cursed. I…assumed that meant you could figure out a solution to the curse.”

“I tried very hard to get that dig shut down,” Kassim reminded him. “I was also lying. I knew what the crystals meant. But no one would believe 'godly crystals' so I went with curse.”

“But there is usually something that can break a curse?” Mephiles prodded, ignoring his confession—for now...

“Mn. Sure. They teach us what to look for in school. I’ve only come across one real curse on any of my digs, but that was back when I was in school and the professor took care of it. She tried to teach us about breaking curses, but I don’t remember the specifics.” Kassim smiled dryly. “I was, ah, pretty anti-magic at the time. Convinced I'd somehow manage to avoid it in my career. I’m an expert in potsherds. Potsherds aren't usually cursed.”

Scourge burned another grilled cheese.

Thirty minutes to go.

“Tempest, can you get my cigarettes from my pocket and help me light one?”

“Yeah, sure.” Tempest wiped burned grease from his hands and stuck his hand in Kassim’s pocket, fishing out his cigarettes and lighter. Mephiles examined the book they’d found as Tempest struggled with the lighter switch.

“Old,” he murmured. Kassim set the ice on the table to take the cigarette Tempest had finally managed to light.

“Thanks.”

He watched Mephiles flip the book open and start fussing with the pages that wouldn’t open as easily. He could only watch by shifting his eyes, giving the scene a surreal, out-of-body feel. Scourge joined them with his own burnt grilled cheese.

“The manager said there's no way off the hill,” he announced while Kassim watched Mephiles peel the pages apart.

Tempest groaned. “Seriously?”

Kassim finally shifted his eyes from Mephiles to Tempest. “Not as fun when you're not the one chasing after the things, huh?”

Tempest blew a raspberry at him. Glad to see he was feeling better. He hopped off his chair and went over to Mephiles to look at the book. Kassim was starting to itch to see it, too, but he had at least fifteen minutes left.

“What's it say?” Tempest asked. “I can't read most of this.”

“’Today is the first day of summer,’” Mephiles read out loud. “’Joy be given, for Papa says I shall have a governess like the girls in the city.’”

“A journal?” Kassim frowned, exhaling smoke to one side to keep it away from the book. Pain bloomed up again. He'd forgotten already. The line sounded a bit like Goth. Goth had learned common from older books and spoke in a similar, oddly formal way.

“’He gave me this book for my thoughts.’” Mephiles huffed in amusement. “’I shall call it my Summer Book.’ Cute. She reminds me of you, Tempest.”

“Should I start journaling in case I disappear mysteriously, murdered by my evil uncle?”

“You'd need an evil uncle for that and I don't think either Dr. Starline or Dr. Finitevus counts,” Scourge chuckled. “But don't let that stop you from living your dreams.”

Mephiles continued reading the journal, teaching Tempest what to look for in the text to understand it. The girl wrote about the daily life on the hill, her brothers, and looking forward to getting a new dress. Finally, Kassim's shoulder cracked, bone grinding together and clicking back in place. He grunted, rolling his arm and joining his family around the journal. He could read it about as well as Mephiles once he scraped his hair back from his face. He’d lost his hair tie somewhere in the chaos upstairs.

“’Alas, I have received such terrible news! Hyacinth has spoken ill of me to Prudence and I simply don't know what to do! I had thought we were fast friends and it seems I was greatly mislead.’” Kassim read, a familiar pang of loneliness twinging in his chest. He understood the feeling well. Time didn't temper friends—or lovers—who seemed one way to your face and another behind your back.

“You said you found this in the attic?” Scourge squinted at it. Tempest nodded.

“The way it is written, I would guess it’s from the original time of the winery,” Mephiles mused. “Ezra or Maximilian’s child, do you think?”

“Impossible to say without a name.” Kassim stepped back, using Tempest’s plate to grind his cigarette out.

“Aren’t you an archeologist?” Scourge snorted.

“My expertise is broken pots from thousands of years ago not slightly damaged journals from hundreds of years ago,” Kassim answered dryly, fussing with his hair again. It was starting to bother him. “Also, I’m tired and I’ve been battered twice today.”

“But you’re okay now, right?” Tempest turned big, blue, concerned eyes on him.

“I’m not in pain anymore now. But I could use sleep.” Kassim turned to Scourge and Mephiles. “You said there’s no way off the hill until the water dies down? Where does that leave us?”

“Well, Mephiles could carry all of us over the water,” Scourge sighed, “or we batten down the hatches here and just…make sure to defend ourselves against whatever…things are going on here.”

“Kassim is acting weird but it does signal when there’s something to worry about,” Tempest pointed out. “I didn’t know there was anything wrong in the attic until he started growling.”

“I started what?"

“The attic is locked now. Whatever’s up there should be contained. If it gets out, Kassim will signal.” Scourge nodded. Kassim scowled.

“I’m not a—” Oh, he was a pet.

Mephiles sighed. “Tempest and Cody are the most vulnerable ones here. Among the three of us remaining, we could surely keep them safe while we wait. As you said, the attic is locked now. Our rooms can be locked and guarded. That will keep things manageable.”

“I’m not that vulnerable,” Tempest grumbled.

“Where is Cody?” Scourge looked around with a frown.

“Most likely his room.” Mephiles shrugged. “I think we make him uncomfortable.”

“Yeah that checks out. Should have brought Chotan…”

If they’d brought Chotan, Kassim could have curled up with her instead of wishing for Goth. His oldest friend would just give him a dry laugh and pet his hair and do more for his anxiety than half a pack of cigarettes. He lit another, wanting to crawl into his bed with his eReader and his whisky. That wasn’t going to be an option now. Tempest wanted to move his mattress into the room with him. Maybe Tempest would let him sleep with him without asking questions.

“Alright, then.” Scourge blew out a breath. “I, for one, think you and I should change rooms, boss. That ceiling stain is way too gross.”

“Yeah, there was a big pool in the attic,” Tempest said. “Wine or something.”

“Weird.”

“Then let’s tell Cody to lock his door and find a different room to occupy. Perhaps the one next to yours, Tempest. Kassim, you’ll stay with Tempest tonight?” Mephiles only half asked the question. It was more a command, as Kassim expected.

“Yeah.” Kassim flicked Tempest’s ear gently. “Rat wanted me to anyway, even before the attic.”

Tempest stuck his tongue out at him. “Not my fault this place is weird. And cold.”

“Then let’s get you tucked in and warmed up,” Scourge laughed softly, leading the way out. Kassim nodded to Mephiles as the crystal hedgehog sandwiched Tempest between him and Scourge, leaving him to bring up the rear, glancing over his shoulder at the vacant, silent kitchen and the deep shadows behind them. Exhaustion hit him hard, his mind fuzzy. Something seemed to shift in the shadows. He shook his head and turned away from the room.

Chapter Text

Tempest knew his parents were trying to keep him safe by keeping him between them, but he wished Kassim could fit on one side, too. He felt really bad for Kassim's injury, even if it had healed and he seemed okay. 

Dad stalled at the doorway, making a confused, annoyed sound.

“Hey, boss, didn't we turn on the lights?”

“Perhaps.”

Dad would have turned on the lights. Father wouldn't care. 

“I think so,” Kassim said quietly from behind Father. “Maybe a few breakers tripped.”

Tempest leaned around Dad, glancing into the room with the statue. The dim light from the kitchen lit it just enough for the shadows to play tricks on his eyes. Still thinking about the thing in the attic, he thought he saw gnarled, grey fingers resting on the arm of a chair in that room until the shadows shifted when Dad turned back with a frown and the chair looked normal again. 

“This fucking storm is a real pisser. Mephiles, trade spots with me.”

“Yes, pet.”

“We should move quickly,” Kassim said, voice tense. Tempest tried to get a good look at him as Dad and Father shifted around him. He didn't think that weird blank look had come back but it was hard to say when he was so backlit from the kitchen. 

“Relax, babe.” Dad pat him on the shoulder, earning a soft growl. “Oh, right. Sorry.”

Tempest frowned. Maybe Kassim's shoulder still hurt after all. He agreed with him, though. He wanted to be warm and cozy and leave it all behind. Maybe no exploring tomorrow. Kassim could read his fairy books and drink his whisky and it could rain and Dad and Father could drink the wine in the kitchen and it all had to end eventually, right? And if they stayed in the house, they'd be safe from the woman outside. The thing in the attic clearly didn’t eat guests normally.

Father led the way through the house, not bothering with the lights.

Tempest turned back to the living room before they passed the door. Father and Dad and Kassim didn't seem to hear the soft clinking sound coming from the room. Coming from the Watcher thing? Did the room have a draft from one of the horrible, old windows? Or maybe it moved on its own. A witch had made it after all. 

One of the bells upstairs chimed.

Everyone froze on the stairs. 

“Kassim?” Tempest asked tentatively.

“I’m here.”

The bell fell silent. 

“Fuck,” Father breathed. The quills on Tempest's back rose. Father didn't swear as much as Dad did. 

“I thought you said it was just tree branches.”

Father cleared his throat. “Yes. Of course.”

They continued up the stairs. Tempest swallowed the unease creeping up his throat. It was too dark. He should be able to see in the dark. Father blocked the view down the hall. Dad and Kassim breathed softly behind him. He was sure it was just them, not a third person, too, breathing like the rattling wind. Just their steps, not another creak farther down the stairs. 

Kassim made a weird noise, stopping on the top step. Dad whipped around before Tempest could, hauling him up the last step with a growl. Kassim growled back, but it wasn't the low, dark, horrible noise he’d made earlier. Tempest pushed Father gently to make him go faster.

“I want to go to bed,” he begged. Father glanced back at him, the red glow of his eyes reassuring. They weren't glowing pinpricks of white light. Father was a safe monster.

They reached Kassim's door first, opening it and silently grabbing his mattress. He and Dad hauled it into Tempest's room, moving with a speed that gave away how uneasy they were, too. Tempest grabbed Kassim's eReader and the glass of whisky he'd abandoned earlier to bring with him. He didn't see the bottle—Kassim had a weird habit of hiding them—but that was probably okay for tonight. He glanced at the closet on the other side of the room. The door sat open, the inky darkness full of danger. His flicked his ears back and hurried away. 

Dad had finally turned his phone light on, making sure the mattress wasn't in the way of the door. Tempest glanced around.

“Where's Father?”

“Grabbing our night stuff.” Dad nodded at the wall. “There's a room free next door.”

“Is that my eReader?” Kassim looked up from the final mattress adjustment. Tempest held it out and the glass of whisky with a nod. Kassim huffed with a smile, taking them with a nod. He flicked Tempest's ear and scuttled out, doing something in the other room. Tempest squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the creaking floorboards.

Dad sighed, pulling him into a hug and kissing the top of his head.

“You doing alright?”

“I want to go home.”

“Me too.” Dad rubbed his back and inhaled hard. “It'll be okay.”

Kassim returned, blankets in his arms. Father appeared behind him.

“Done. Ready to turn in?”

Dad nodded, releasing Tempest without another kiss on his head. “Right. Lock your door. Keep Kassim nearby. Get some sleep. We'll raid all the snacks in the kitchen tomorrow.”

Tempest laughed quietly and nodded. “Okay.”

Dad passed Father and waited in the hall for him to kiss Tempest good night, too. 

Tempest suddenly didn't want to let his parents leave. If they left, he was sure he wouldn't see them again. 

“Can't we all sleep together?” He asked, hugging Father tightly before he could leave. 

“We wouldn't all fit, love.”

“But—”

“I know.” Father soothed, stroking his quills back. “I'll keep your dad safe. You know nothing can hurt me.”

Tempest swallowed the oily fear, blinking back tears. “Be safe.”

“Always.” Father leveled a look at Kassim. “You too.”

They closed the door behind them. Tempest waited until he heard their door close before locking it and turning back to Kassim. His pet had arranged his bed like a little nest, already burrowed into it. 

“Can I sleep with you?” he asked. Kassim nodded, holding his blanket open and waiting for Tempest to get Carlos and burrow in next to him. 

Tempest rested against Kassim's side, holding Carlos tight. They would be okay. Kassim was acting normal. He lit a cigarette, his eReader light mixing with the little flame at the end to create a little ball of light around them. Every so often, he took a sip of his whisky. Together, they lay in silence, light and warmth holding off the cold, dark behemoth house looming over them. Tempest focused on the familiar, how Kassim inhaled the smoke with quick, sure breaths, the soft taps on his eReader as he read, and his warm, solid presence. He squeezed Carlos and closed his eyes. Kassim would let him know if anything bad was trying to sneak up on them. It was going to be okay.

Chapter Text

Cold.

Cold and dark.

Fingers twisted up through the floor, latching onto Tempest's ankle.

It hurt! The fingers were so strong! They gripped his leg like they wanted to crush his bones.

Where was his family? He tried calling for them, but something horrible filled his mouth. Wet and earthy and he was drowning without water and no one was going to find him! The fingers dragged him farther down. He was going to die and no one would find him!

Tempest woke with a start and a cry.

Kassim grunted next to him. “Tempest? What's wrong?”

Kassim! Tempest pulled him close, sniffling into his chest. His raspy voice was real and here and his arms were already wrapping protectively around him.

“Did you hear something?”

“N-no.” Tempest sniffed. “Bad dream.”

Kassim hummed, curling his legs up to join his arms around him, cocooning Tempest in a warm, slightly dusty smelling safe haven. Kassim always kind of smelled like dirt. But dry dirt, safe dirt.

The wind outside rattled the windows. The room had gone dark and quiet but it was still just a room. He wasn't in the ground. Nothing grabbed him. Kassim was here.

He squeezed Carlos, breathing hard and trying to get closer to Kassim. Kassim huffed, keeping him enclosed in his arms and legs.

“I don't like this place,” Tempest confessed.

“I don't either.” Kassim's voice came out heavy, like he meant more than just feeling spooked all the time. Or maybe he was just trying to get back to sleep.

Somewhere in the house, a bell chimed.

Kassim stiffened around Tempest, inhaling sharply.

“Maybe they'll go away,” Tempest whispered. Kassim didn't answer, tense and silent.

Another bell chimed. Still far away. What did that mean? How were the bells connected to the fence? A third bell started and a fourth and a fifth and soon they all seemed to be ringing. Tempest pressed his hands to his ears, trying to dull the noise. It didn't help as much as it should.

The silence shocked him almost as much as the deafening sound had. He dropped his hands with a gasp, still held tight in Kassim's arms.

“What does it mean?!”

“Nothing good,” Kassim answered grimly. “But we do as your parents said. We stay here. Keep the door locked.”

Right. Tempest nodded. Kassim was anxious and twitchy and good at getting out of places. He knew how to handle this kind of thing. If he was staying put, they weren’t in danger yet.

They waited in silence, listening hard.

Something scratched at the house walls. The sound was almost swallowed by the wind, impossible to tell where it was coming from. Tempest squeezed his eyes shut, wishing his parents would make it go away.

Wet, squishing footsteps sounded outside, just under the window. The scratching continued. Claws or fingers on the wood. A soft growl rumbled in Kassim's chest. No! Not now!

“They cant get in,” Tempest whispered desperately to him, grabbing his shirt. Kassim quieted.

Each footstep fell heavy into the mud, a wet slop followed by a pause and then a sucking sound to follow. The thing moved away down the length of the house. Tempest hoped to Chaos his parents didn't try to attack it. They wouldn't be able to fight it. He sniffed into Kassim's shirt. The cool gold of Kassim's thumb brushed the hot tears from his eyes.

The footsteps faded. Tempest shivered. Not knowing where it was was worse, he decided. At least if it was under them, they knew it wasn't inside.

“They cant get in,” he whispered again, more for himself than Kassim.

A floorboard creaked somewhere in the house. Kassim stilled. Not a good sign.

Another floorboard creaked, the sound just as slow and deliberate as the steps outside the window. Tempest wanted to scream. The thing was in the house. It wasn't just the thing in the attic, locked away. Now there were more.

“The door is locked,” Kassim said softly, stroking his quills. Tempest nodded, unconvinced.

The floorboards continued to creak, the noise getting louder as they crept up the stairs. Soon, solid, heavy footsteps joined the creaking, making their way down the hall. They didn't hesitate, thudding like Tempest's heart, until they came to a horrible stop in front of the door.

Please, Tempest begged the silent room around them. Please make them go away.

The doorknob rattled softly. Tempest held his breath. It was locked. They would leave.

Kassim growled again. Tempest shook his head, desperately trying to keep Kassim quiet without actually grabbing his muzzle. No! Don't!

The doorknob scraped, the lock rolling back. Tempest whipped his head around, disbelief crashing into fear. The door began to open.

“Window! Out!” Kassim hissed, up like a shot and shoving Tempest toward the window. He stayed facing the door, his body shuddering and jerking before his dropped to all fours, that deep, terrifying growl coming from him. Tempest froze as the thing he’d been so afraid of shoved its way through the door.

It was a dead man.

The salamander's skin sagged, grey and clotted with long settled blood, sunken around the bulging, white eyes that fixed on him, ignoring Kassim in front of him. Scraps of what used to be clothes moved with him as he lurched into the room, leaving dark mud streaks on the floor in his wake.

The worst part was the silence. The man didn't make a noise. His lips had been sewn shut with rough, thick, dark thread.

Kassim lunged, teeth locking around the salamander's shoulder and slamming the dead man back against the door. Tempest remembered how he’d tried to bite the thing in the attic. Why did he think that was the right response? He wasn't thinking at all. And it was going to get him killed.

Tempest let out a sob, spinning to shove the window open. If Kassim was going to sacrifice himself, even if he didn't really have control of it, he wasn't going to do something stupid like make that sacrifice pointless.

He tumbled out of the window, slipping on the rain slick roof before he could get himself dug in.

The window next to his scraped open, too. He screamed, expected another dead thing crawling through to get him.

It was Dad. He dove out like Tempest had, locking eyes with him.

“Tem—”

He slipped, unable to dig in with his feet like Tempest could with his crystals.

“Dad!” Tempest shrieked, watching his dad hit the roof hard and tumble down over the edge.

Chapter Text

He didn't hear Dad hit the ground. Dad didn't even scream.

Tempest did.

Father shot out of the window past him, a dark mass flying through the rain and down over the edge of the roof.

Another dead person followed, a vole pulling herself from the window on all fours, milky white eyes fixing on Tempest as she scanned the roof. This one had a sewn shut mouth, too. The stillness of the thing, the completely blank look, made it all the worse. Like he wasn't being attacked for any reason. It was just because he was there.

He dug his crystals in, running away from her and toward the edge of the roof. He could jump down. He was half monster. He'd be okay.

Hot tears mixed with cold rain as he skidded to a stop at the edge. He could just see two figures on the ground below. It was so much farther than he'd thought.

“Father!” he called, hoping his father would hear him over the rain and whatever had happened to Dad. Dad wasn’t moving.

Father looked up at him, red eyes glowing like a beacon. He stood up from Dad's body—no, just Dad. Dad would be okay!—and held his arms out for Tempest.

“Jump, Tempest! I'll catch you!”

Tempest glanced over his shoulder. The dead thing from his parents’ room was gaining on him. His own room lay dark. Kassim wasn't coming out. But neither was the dead man. He only had this one shot.

He let out a little sob and focused back on Father.

He jumped.

Father caught him, like he said he would. His weird crunchy bones cushioned his landing, his arms gripping him hard, keeping him safe and sound. A bright, gold light flashed out from above like lightning, illuminating Dad's still form on the ground.

“Dad!” Tempest cried, falling into the mud next to him. Father braced himself above them, arms out. The dead thing was still coming, the roof tiles scraping and cracking under its weight.

Another sound joined in. Bells. More of them were coming. Tempest wailed, clutching his head. Father grunted, pulling his purple crystals from the ground to form a protective shell around them. The silence shocked Tempest out of his fear. The dead thing from the roof hit the crystals hard as Father finished. The impact was a horrible, dull thud against the protective layer. Father groaned, sinking to his knees and pressing a hand to his head.

Dad moaned softly and let out a little noise of pain. Tempest gasped, turning back to him. Dad was alive! But he was hurt. Tempest glanced at Father, who'd looked over at them with obvious relief, but he didn't get up.

The dead thing started pounding on the crystals, a dark shape beyond the purple barrier. Tempest shuddered, turning back to Dad. His arm didn’t look right and a big gash seared along his foot, blood oozing out of it. Tempest grit his teeth in frustration. He remembered Dad teaching him how to dress a wound, but he needed a bandage for that. He didn’t have a bandage. He did have a shirt! It was soaked, but it had to be better than nothing, right?

He tugged it off, gently holding Dad’s foot and doing his best to stem the bleeding. Dad gasped, weakly trying to pull away.

“Dad, please…” Tempest whimpered. “I lost Kassim. I can’t lose you, too. Let me help.”

“Fuck.”

Tempest smiled shakily. If Dad was swearing, he was okay, right? He kept his shirt pressed to Dad's foot. He couldn't do anything for the weirdly twisted way his arm lay in the mud.

The dead thing continued to pound on the crystal wall, joined by others now. Tempest gulped, squeezing his eyes shut. Father's power protected them now, but would it hold out? It was hard for Father to do it away from home.

Dad and Father together was what kept them safe. Now it was Father and Tempest. And Tempest didn't have the power yet to do anything other that stop Dad from bleeding and try not to cry.

Another flash of light lit the sky above them. Lightning without thunder, just the dull thuds of the dead things on the crystal walls.

Father dropped heavily next to Tempest, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and reaching out gently to hover his hand over Dad's arm.

“Scourge—”

“I'll live, boss,” Dad croaked. Father moved from his arm to his face, holding himself tense, like he was worried he'd hurt Dad if he moved too fast.

Tempest hoped his dad wasn't just saying things to make them feel better. He didn't know if he was holding his shirt against the gash right or if Dad was more injured than he seemed.

“Listen,” Father said softly, looking up. Tempest did.

The dead things had stopped slapping at the crystals. Tempest glanced around. He didn't see any shapes moving around behind the crystal.

“Did they leave?” he whispered.

Father got up carefully, moving to press an ear to the crystals.

“It would seem so.”

Distantly, dimly, the bells rang again. A final goodbye or reinforcements?

They waited for several minutes in tense silence. Tempest felt a few droplets of water on his head and glanced up. Father's crystals were receding. He was losing his grip on them. Too many distractions. Or too far from home.

No other dead things came to hit the crystals.

“I don't think they’re clever enough to lie in wait for us…” Father said softly, almost half to himself. “But wait here.”

He slid through the crystals. Tempest bit down a plea to keep him back. Father could survive the dead things. He could survive anything.

“You're, ungh, doing great kiddo,” Dad said through his teeth. “Just keep the pressure there until your father can, hahh, help me up.”

“Dad…” Tempest rubbed tears from his eyes, doing his best to keep his shirt pressed to his dad's foot. Blood was starting to leak through the cloth, staining his fingers red.

“I'll be fine, Tempest.” Dad screwed his face up against the pain. “Ugh. Eventually. Wish I had Kassim's healing powers right about now.”

“Kassim didn't make it out,” Tempest whimpered, more tears sliding down his face.

“I’m sure he's fine.”

“It was the dead things.”

“Hm?”

“The dead things were what was making him act weird. When the—the thing got in, he went weird again and attacked it.” Tempest shivered. “With his teeth.”

“Huh.”

Father reappeared with a sigh of relief, letting the crystals drop back into the ground. “They're gone. Come on, love. Let's get your dad into the house, where we can assess the damage.”

“Pretty bad,” Dad groaned. Father chuckled, gently picking him up, trying to keep his arm from jostling. Dad let out a bark of pain anyway. Tempest didn’t want to let go of his shirt around Dad's foot. Father smiled at him reassuringly.

“You can let go, Tempest. I've got your dad. He won't bleed out between here and the kitchen.”

“Might throw up on you though.”

Father and Tempest grimaced at Dad's words. They crept through the night, making sure no dead things were waiting to ambush them, and made it back inside, warm and—well, not really safe, was it? Safer. At least here, there was light.

Something moved at the top of the stairs. They froze. Father flicked on the hallway light, braced for whatever was coming at them.

Kassim's eyes reflected the light. He still didn’t react to it but he didn’t have the dull-eyed look the dead things brought on. His hands and shirt were covered in blood, a haunted look about him. Not his blood—regular blood. But the dead things didn't seem to bleed…no blood stained his mouth.

“Kassim?”

“I—” Kassim looked at them, holding up his shaking hands. “Cody—I—I couldn't save him…”