It was the second anniversary of your death. I should've just shut myself in your attic all day. Should've expected your friends to attend the vigil at the family tomb. Should've kept our godsdamned mouth shut when Ulysses said he missed you‑ "So do I"?! Of course he thought it was ghoulish sarcasm!
"Here you are, missus." Said the barkeeper, who set a bag of ice on the table with a weighty clunk. I wouldn't have gone to the hospital for this. But Cordelia insisted I should've at least put ice on it, & your freezer at home was empty, except for various cartons of my nutrient‑enriched mush. This was her best idea.
"Thanks, Marv." Cordelia grunted.
"Can I get you anything else?"
"A bit of scotch. For me." She replied. At that, the barkeeper left us alone again.
"C'mon." She muttered. She nudged our head up off of the greasy hardwood table & placed the ice where I'd been. I lowered back down & winced, but didn't pull away. It was like if a pillow was burning cold, full of rocks, & slightly damp from condensation‑ So basically, if a pillow sucked total ass. She ran a wide, warm hand over the veil I still wore to cover our sepals[Hover over me!!]. I almost didn't flinch, which reminded her to not do that.
She drew back to her seat on the other side of the booth. The bench creaked under her weight as she settled back in. Her sinewy arms crossed over her broad chest. Slumped over like I was, I couldn't see her face, but I guessed she had that awful, pinched expression‑ The kind she had when we were injured, naked, or both. She sighed.
"I'm sorry." I croaked. There was a faint clap as she rubbed her hand over her mouth.
"I shouldn't have gone," I added. She sighed again.
"Well- You meant it, didn't you. That's what vigils are for." It wasn't a question. I knew what she was talking about. I went quiet again, for good this time. She didn't press me further. She was used to my birdshit.
I don't think I could've pieced together whatever excuse she wanted anyways; this headache was killing me. I shut my eyes. My eyeshadow had rubbed off at some point, so I could make out foggy shapes, colours, & lights through our eyelids. But the light was dim in there anyway, & if I pulled my veil a little further down to block my sight, it was almost bearable-- Gods, clear eyelids are such a pain! The noise level in this booth was almost bearable too, but I still heard the muffled customers over in the main drinking hall. It made our temples throb, but I didn't blame them. The Dark Lord's defeat is a pretty good excuse to get wasted, after all… Even for his fascist toadys. I bet plenty of them lived it up for the last time when they realized they were about to get life without parole in a Coalition prison.
At some point, the barkeeper put an end to our juvenile silence with "You can't be back here. This is a reserved booth."
"You're… You're Callum Charnelle, right? I need your help." Said somebody else, as if the barkeeper weren't there. My eyes shot open, & the visitor went from an orange blob to a stout person in a long auburn overcloak, standing in the entrance to the booth.
Cordelia's bench creaked again as she leaned forward. "Cordelia Grenadier." She said by way of introduction, & nothing else, because the visitor had almost certainly heard of her before. "Come in."
& the visitor did, because an offer of help from Cordelia was as good as an offer from you.
"Diesel Dauberman." He said back, then added, "I'm a man." He probably had to say that a lot. I believed him, of course, but he didn't… Pass as one.
"Right. Callum isn't. & I'm a woman, but Callum isn't." Cordelia told him. A little heavyhanded, but so was Diesel. I think we all would've had to clear that up at some point, so why not get it out of the way now? His eyebrows went up in mild surprise, but he just gave us a brief nod & moved on. He had bigger flies to fry.
"Your scotch, missus." Said the poor barkeeper, who had been completely forgotten. He set the glass down in front of her. "Will your guest be having anything?"
"Will you?" She asked Diesel.
"No."
"Like, we could just get you water, or a Shirley Temple…"
He squinted as he considered it.
"Water. With a straw."
"Yessir. I'll be right back." The barkeeper said, & left again.
Diesel hesitated to sit down at the sight of me. I scooched over to give him more room, & he relented. Cordelia knocked back a mouthful of scotch- For the taste, although I just couldn't see the appeal. She certainly didn't intend to get drunk. At her size, she'd need maybe… Five more glasses to start feeling it?
"I'll keep this quick. He'll notice I've snuck off any minute now." Diesel started. I stiffened.
"Who?" Cordelia asked, her brow furrowed. If she needed to fend some creep off of this guy, she wouldn't hesitate- Only, why'd he ask for me, then…?
"Well, he- He wears my brother's clothes. His face. His skin. But it's not him."
Our heart jolted in our chest. My mangled, vestigial survival instincts screamed at me to run away as if I'd been chased by a hare[2]. But Diesel blocked my way out of the booth, & our limbs were leaden weights anyway. The hem of my shawl was clenched in our fingers. I wrung it tight. There was the faint pop of a fraying seam.
"He stopped wearing makeup. He's been ignoring his weevil[3], & she's his baby. He's been all over our masters lately, but he hated those assholes! It was like a switch flipped in his head overnight. & I… I'm the only one who even cares!"
He stopped himself before his tirade could get too far from the point, & looked at me. I broke eye contact. Immediately.
"So you're saying it's a human." Cordelia clarified.
"Yes." Diesel huffed.
"& you think they can help you." Cordelia added. She nodded in my direction, as if that didn't just draw attention to how supremely unhelpful I was at the moment.
"They're the only documented survivor of human possession." Diesel agreed. "How'd they get free?"
Cordelia rubbed her chin. He glanced at me, then back to her. He was probably frustrated because he came for me, & she had to do all of the talking instead. Or maybe he was concerned; it was hard to tell because of the scarf tied around the lower half of his face. Our own face was very numb & wet at this point, & I was so tense that I would've swallowed our tongue if I could.
"…This is way outta my wheelhouse, man. I'm no wizard." She said at last. "But Callum- Now, they've been studied by a guy who specializes in this stuff. You meet 'em again when they ain't concussed, & they'll int-"
She broke off at a sound too faint & far away for the rest of us to hear. Her long ears twitched.
"He's found you. You want me to scare him off?"
"Fuckin' hell, he's quick," Diesel muttered, but his scarf only twisted over his deepening scowl. Somehow, he was more repulsed than frightened by the approaching human. "No… If you size him up right away, he'll get suspicious of what I've said. 'M pretty sure he doesn't know that I know… Prolly thinks I snuck off just to get drunk. Let the bastard think I met you over shots."
This would be a convincing idea if there weren't only one glass of scotch between the three of us, & if any of us smelled even faintly of alcohol. What the hell, maybe the concussion would help me pull it off anyway.
We heard the human coming before we saw him.
"Sir. Sir. Sir. These are the reserved booths. I'll have to call security if you don't-" Said the poor barkeeper. He deserved the fattest tip after all this birdshit.
He trailed after a man who called out a name I didn't recognize. The man poked his head into our booth.
"I'm looking for someone; I'll be right out after I find-- [Diesel]![4] There you are." His gaze settled on Diesel as he said it. Only then did I realize he'd been calling after him, & he was a total asshole about it. I would've found him handsome- He had an aquiline nose, & on his head, there was wispy black mycelium that came down to his back- But it wasn't truly him, & the human's slimy, over-familiar smirk didn't fit on his stolen face. It felt as though I could peel his deep blue skin off, & something else would be there underneath. The overall affect made me want to fly out of the booth's window, right into your attic, & never come out again.
Diesel's glare could've scoured that huge patch of green-grey mold[5] from the human's dermis. "I'm a grownass man, you know-" The human chuckled at this. "-God forbid I have a drink without a babysitter!"
"Well, you will excuse me if I don't want you drugged, & your organs stolen in a foreign country," He replied. His jovial tone made me suspect that was meant to be funny. His gaze slid right over Cordelia & settled on me. "Speaking of prospective organ thieves! Has our [Diesel] made a few drinking buddies?"
His brows drew a micrometer closer. I did not answer him, but a faint, strangled whimper rose from the back of our throat without permission. Diesel sighed.
"I would have, if only you didn't hover around like a fly to shit. Shoo, you. That eye of yours'll give them a heart attack." He flicked a balled-up straw wrapper at the human. His dermal mold had spread to his right eye & stained the sclera an algal green, but that didn't even breach the top ten most freakish things about him. Honestly, I only wondered if it was as painful as it looked.
The human was unbothered. He didn't even look away from me. There was an odd rigidity to his smile, like his face was a theatre mask. "If you think I'm a sorry sight, you won't like what's under [his] scarf." He turned to Diesel. "These two wouldn't share their beer with you… & you shouldn't. I wouldn't trust them around a [man] who's nev-"
"Do you care about calling us creeps to our faces more than getting your friend to safety?" Cordelia interjected with nothing but bored disdain. His smile still didn't waver, but the muscles in his jaw clenched tighter. His spine went from the rigidity of a meter stick to industrial rebar.
"Oh, shut it, Charnelle." Here, Cordelia raised an eyebrow. "Good siblings look out for each other, but I understand if you're unfamiliar with the concept."
"I- What?" It took her a moment to piece together what the hell he was getting at. "I'm Cordelia. The other guy is Callum?" She nodded in my direction.
The human's eyebrows shot up. He brought a hand to his starched collar, clutched at a string of pearls which were not there, & glanced between the two of us. He took a moment to digest the thought with his stolen brain, & at last said: "…No."
"Yes??"
Cordelia frowned down at him in the same way I frown at moldy leftovers. She could've snapped that twink over her knee like a twig, but that didn't stop our heart from leaping into our throat. At that point, a strange thought occurred to me… That although she was her, I was me, & I'd already been thoroughly pulped, I had to keep her safe from whatever this was- Even if drawing the human's attention away from her was the best I could do.
"Piss off already," I slurred through a split lip fattened with blood. I pushed myself up to stand. Our forearm burned with an ache that pooled in our fingertips; it was too soon to support our weight. "Look, man, I… I don't wanna get kicked out of another bar. Just go… Before I make you look like me."
The threat was too breathy & faint to be any good. I wasn't good at lying anymore, but that didn't stop me from trying. Cordelia reached out a hand to steady me.
"Hey," She said softly, because I had already met my quota for brash, stupid birdshit for the week.
"I'll go back to the Blue Rose. Just quit making a total dick of yourself." Diesel muttered as soon as the human began to size me up. He stood up & swept out of the booth. The human lingered a moment longer. He looked at Cordelia & I with all of the confused distaste of someone who'd gone to a restaurant & gotten the wrong order.
"…Callum Charnelle." He said, seemingly to himself. His eyes were fixed onto my kirtle. He opened his mouth & nearly added something else, but decided against it, & followed Diesel out.