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.