Meeting Merona

He walked rigidly down the sidewalk, his every step as stiff and reluctant as a man being marched to the gallows at the point of a bayonet. The only difference was that his destination was a grocery store, and the threat at his back was his mother's disapproval. Neither of those was the problem. The real threat, the thing making the little Mouse march with his tail stiff as a spear, was sprinkled here and there among the crowd, oblivious to his presence and his knowledge of theirs: things that were not people. Things that might not be alive, like the ghost he'd met last autumn. Things that might — he was certain would — tear him limb from limb if they realized he could see them for what they were.

“This was a terrible idea," Devon whimpered to himself, pretending to adjust his glasses as he hid his eyes from the thing shuffling passed him in the opposite direction. It was something like a giant worm, with its head buried in the back of a Wolf who seemed perfectly oblivious to the grotesque attachment. The Mouse circled around behind the little collection of outlet shops as soon as he reached the end of it, curling up behind the dumpster there to recollect himself. The grocery store was just at the end of the next outlet. Fifty yards. He could hold it together that long...right?

Devon sat with his back to the sturdy brick wall, resting his arms on his knees and hiding his face behind them while he took three good, deep breaths. Nothing had been the same since he met that ghost. He was sure she'd done something when he started that spell to make her visible. He still wasn't sure what actually would have happened if he'd finished it, but he was glad he hadn't. At least his friends didn't seem to be suffering any similar effects...just suffering tangentially from him going quasi-crazy. His grades had dropped as he lost his ability to concentrate. His parents were worried by his new habit of holing up his room and only “getting out" by chatting with his friends online. He'd invite them to the house sometimes, and once or twice gone to theirs, but going to the movies or some attraction on the strip had become outright impossible for him.

That was why he was out here now. His mother hadn't exactly threatened him, but it was clear she was trying to discreetly test his rapidly shrinking boundaries. And Devon couldn't blame her. It was beginning to bother him how afraid he was of stepping outside the house. Even getting to and from school was nerve-wracking. This was just a simple, routine chore, and a short trip. So he'd agreed like it was nothing, took the list she handed him, and made himself stride boldly out the door and down the sidewalk to the main road, hoping to reassure both his mother and himself that he wasn't becoming a complete shut-in.

His courage hadn't lasted long after touching the sidewalk. “Why are there so many now?" he moaned to himself from behind his arms.

“'Scuse me, shuga," a light, soft, female voice called to him gently in the thickest mountain accent he'd ever heard outside of cartoon characters, “Ah don' mean t' be a bothe', but ah you alright?" The glare of the afternoon sun was mildly alleviated by a sudden shade above him, and Devon looked up to see a Snake coiled low and close by, giving him a concerned look. He returned a similar look to her. She was wearing a bonnet and bell-bottomed dress of a style that hadn't been popular in at least two hundred years, complete with matching parasol (which she was holding over him to keep the sun off his face). Devon wondered if she'd been on her way to some kind of historic re-enactment event. Her large, unblinking eyes were the soft pink of flower petals, and her scales were smooth and glossy with a coat of oil to keep them from drying out. The color looked an unnatural degree of black to him, and what part of her wasn't hidden under cloth looked thin and pale and peeling beneath the oil. It was hard to tell what Kinship she might be beneath it. “Lost, oa dehydrated, maybe?"

The little Mouse shook his head quickly, never taking his eyes away from her. “No. S-sorry. I'm just tired. Needed a break before I...go home."

The Snake flicked her forked tongue through her lips once as they quirked up in what Devon could only describe as a knowing smile. “Those ah some mighty wide eyes fo' bein' tired. Look mo'e frightened t' me. Come on, now," she urged, coiling up with her back to the wall beside him and continuing to hold her parasol above his head. Devon couldn't quite put his finger on the smell of her perfume, but it reminded him a little of vinegar and...something else with a sharp scent. “You jus' tell Ol' Merona all about it. Airin' fea's is great fo' gettin' over 'em."

He inched a little further away from her, making her tip her parasol to keep him in its shadow. “That's okay. It's...a really long story. And you wouldn't believe it, anyway."

“Ah got nowhe' t' be, an' nothin' bettah t' do," she assured him. “Give mah believin' a test. Lessen, o'course, ah'm the one that's frightenin' you," she added with an understanding smile, surprisingly warm coming from a Snake, and seemed prepared to leave him be if he indicated she was making him uncomfortable.

She seemed nice. It was more comforting to Devon than she could possibly know, and more than a little surprising to him. Taking a deep breath, the little Mouse decided to...try...taking her up on her offer. “...A little," he admitted, “I hope it's not rude to ask, but...are you shedding or something?"

That made the Snake tilt her head curiously, just before she shook it in denial. “No, not at the moment, anyway. What gave you that impression?"

“The, uh...pale...and flaky," he gestured vaguely to the side of her neck, where he could clearly see a small patch of scales coming loose, “I really don't mean to be rude, it's just...I've been seeing a lot of weird things, lately. People look sick, or like there's stuff attached to them that...can't be. You don't have to believe me," he hid his eyes behind his arms again, realizing he probably sounded a good deal more than 'rude' by this point, “I told you you wouldn't. I just want to know what's going on with me, and if I'm going crazy or not."

There was a long, thoughtful pause following that. She didn't move, and was slow in asking her next question: “Sorry, shuga...what was youa name again?"

“Devon," he provided, thinking somewhere in the back of his head that his mom would scold him if she knew he was giving it to a stranger, and thinking in some other corner of his head that he was definitely too old for that to be a concern anymore, “Devon Whipwire."

“Well it's nice t' meet'cha, Devon," she smiled once more, “Jus' fo' curiosity's sake, since mah skin don' look healthy t' you: what color are mah eyes?"

Peeking one eye out from behind his arms to double-check his first impression, he affirmed, “Pink. Not like you've been drunk, but actual pink. Near to red, actually."

Her smile fell away into a look of shock, though she managed to keep her mouth politely closed. The Snake slowly pulled her parasol back to rest on her own shoulder. “Well ah'll be," she remarked quietly, though an excited rattle began to hiss from underneath her skirt, “Master's gon' wanna know 'bout you. 'S'not jus' anyone as can see through a vampire's glamour."

Devon felt his skin go cold and his fur stand on end. He didn't even look at her as he bolted away. Unfortunately, he didn't really look which way he was bolting, either, and ran smack into the side of the dumpster he'd been hiding behind in the first place. Catching his glasses as they bounced off his nose, the wide-eyed Mouse spun around to find the Snake nose-to-nose with him.

Her eyes were definitely red now; red as the blood running cold in his veins as they caught him in their gaze, growing larger and larger by the second, until all poor Devon could see was a world in red surrounding two narrow, dark slits...

Vampire's Master

Devon came awake with a start, bolting up to a sitting position, nearly as frightened as he'd been when he passed out. At least he assumed he'd passed out, since he had no clear memory of anything after meeting Merona's eyes. He was lying in a bed now, under an old but warm blanket, in the corner of what looked like a run-down studio apartment. The wall-paper was splotched and darkened in several places and the veneer had begun to peel from a few of the cabinets in the kitchenette across the room. The only “new" thing in the apartment seemed to be a wide and heavy curtain covering the closed blinds blocking off the window. The solitary light in the room was a bare bulb above the little dining-table stationed in the center of the room, topped by a large wooden bowl.

Slithering around the kitchenette was Merona. Her pale, cracking scales bore a distinct pattern, mostly gray with dark rings looping around her at regular intervals. Devon thought that pattern belonged to some Kinship of Timber Rattler, but couldn't remember clearly. It hardly mattered. What mattered more to him was that she had a clear pattern now, rather than the near-uniform black she'd been when they met, and that every bit of her looked dry, peeling, and dead.

It wasn't until she turned toward him that he realized part of the reason he could see her pattern so well was that she'd removed her dress, replacing it with what looked more like a bikini top than a bra, and nothing else. Devon quickly averted his eyes...and not just to avoid staring at the surprisingly full swells sagging in their cups. The thought of actually meeting her eyes again made his tail stand up straight as a spear, and most of his fur too.

The Rattler set a steaming cup down on the nightstand beside him, then backed away to rest beside the dining-table. “How's your head?" she asked in a voice that sounded mildly annoyed, rather than concerned, and completely lacking the thick mountain accent she'd spoken in before. “Need some aspirin?"

Devon shook his head very slowly, and squeaked, “No...I'm fine," without ever daring to look at her.

Merona arched the ridge above one slitted eye. “You are a weird one," she noted, “Usually, when we put people under with the eyes, they wake up with a splitting headache." She leaned an elbow on the table, drumming her fingers impatiently on the hard wood and staring at him in that unnerving, unblinking way of Snakes, as if expecting him to make some further remark. After a moment, her forked tongue flicked out from between her lips with an exasperated hiss. “Okaaaay...you're, like, the dumbest little crotch-fruit I've ever met if you aren't bursting with questions right now. But sure, I'll start the conversation," she declared, crossing her arms over her barely-clad breasts, “How long have you had the Sight?"

Naturally, Devon was bursting with questions...and a deep, stomach-churning fear of the answer to half of them. The most pressing one, and the one that would pretty well sum up all the others if they needed answering at all, was, “Am...am I about to die?" He barely had the nerve to squeak it out, still staring resolutely at the wall in front of him instead of his captor.

The Rattler frowned. “Uh, that's now how this works. You missed your chance at the first question. Now you answer mine before you get to ask one," she insisted, tapping one finger impatiently on the wood.

Devon swallowed the fear swelling up in his chest hard, and was just about to try to answer when the Snake interrupted, “Oh, cut him some slack, Bibi! Can't you see he's scared to death?" she asked in a far more chipper, even friendly tone...just before answering herself in annoyance, “Can it, Cici! I'm in charge in the house. I'm asking the questions."

Devon did dare to look at her then...and sort of wished he hadn't. The right side of her face was still frowning, and her right eye seemed to be trying to look across her own nose, to where her left eye was still pointed squarely at him and the left corner of her mouth hooked up in a warmer smile than you'd think a Snake could manage. Noticing him looking her way, she gave him a little wave with her left hand. Her right eye rolled in annoyance, and she sighed, “Fine, fine, just get down."

With a quick shake of her head, her expression became symmetrical again. “Look, kid, it's nothing personal. I just think it was really effing stupid to bring you here without talking to the master first, but Emby..." She paused, covering her lidless eyes with her palms and rubbing her head. “No, I guess I need to explain that first, don't I? Dammit, why is this my job?! Help me out here, Snot!"

A husky, baritone voice harrumphed from inside the wooden bowl on the table, “I am not snot! I am slime! If you insist on not using my name, at least find a polite substitute."

Devon was glad he was sitting on a bed, because he was starting to feel a little dizzy from trying to keep up with everything that was happening in this small apartment. His chin went slack as something rippled inside the bowl, and a thick, transparent mound of some gelatin-like substance rose up above the rim. It flexed a little, swelling out in smaller bubbles and waves until it resembled the smooth face of a Rooster, and even took on a dark grey color to make itself easier for Devon to see. The liquid face moved in imitation of speaking words, though the sound still came primarily from inside the bowl: “Alright, young man, start with a deep breath. Don't try to believe it all at once. Think of this room as a stage, and we as actors, as I describe the roles we will take in the coming play."

The poor Mouse could only nod silently, slowly closing his mouth as, for the sake of his own sanity, he did stop trying to make sense of what was happening, and just listened and watched like it was a show on the television playing out in front of him. The face above the bowl nodded approvingly, and swiveled around to face the Rattler beside it. “As you know, this is Merona Embereyes. However, regrettably, Merona has been dead for quite some time, and it's had something of a deleterious effect on her mind. The one who found you behind the dumpster is called 'Emby' — that's short for Mountain Belle — and the oldest remaining fragment of Merona that remains. She is still more-or-less in charge of the rest. This uncouth personality addressing you now is called 'Bibi', and 'Cici' was the friendlier one who intervened for you. You may call me 'Globert'...or anything besides 'snot', really."

The Snake jerked her thumb at the bowl. “You hear the way he talks. Just try to tell me he doesn't sound snotty."

Devon silently swore to stay out of that argument. “So...you're really a vampire? But you were walking around in broad daylight..."

“Our dresses and parasol keep the sun off," Bibi explained quickly, jerking her thumb at the bowl again, “And Snot here can block it, too, so we wrap up in him for good measure."

That explained why she'd appeared to be covered in oil when Devon first met her...and the smell, he supposed. But hearing it confirmed just brought him back to the question that had been clenching his heart ever since he woke up. “You never did answer me," he noted hesitantly, ears drooping, “Does that mean...I'm food?"

The Snake and the slime looked questioningly at each other...a fact which did not encourage Devon at all. Globert spoke first: “In this instance, to be gentle would be no kindness..."

“Not my call to make, kid," Bibi shrugged, flicking her forked tongue, “We're waiting to hear from our master. He'll decide what to do with you. Best I can promise is that you'll be well asleep before blood is drawn, in the worst case. There's no denying we're monsters, but we're not barbaric."

Her entire body spasmed suddenly, jerking so hard she nearly cracked her chin on the table. “Now both o' you jus' wait a fisherman's minute he'e!" Merona snapped in a thick mountain accent, and Devon guessed Emby had come back to the fore, “Master ain't neve' hurt no one as wasn't one o' us, an' ah'll not hea' eithe' one o' you imply othe'wise!" Slithering right over to the bedside, she leaned down to give Devon a warm, comforting smile. “Now you jus' listen t' me, shuga," she tapped his nose gently to be sure she had his undivided attention, “You'a' gonna be fine. You got sum'thin' special in those eyes, but you don't know how t' use it, an' it's hurtin' you. Master'll know what t' do 'bout that, so you jus' sit tight an' rest, 'kay?"

The little Mouse's cheeks were red as he nodded, trying not to let his eyes drift down below her chin. Seeming a little perplexed by the color in his cheeks, Emby glanced down as if to check if there was something wrong with her clothes...and immediately slithered back a short distance with both arms crossed over her barely-clad breasts. “Fo'gotten gods, Bibi, the'e's a man in the house!" she hissed, slithering over to a large trunk by the door to pull a more complete shirt out of it, “Have an ounce o' modesty, can't you?!"

While she was pulling that over her head, Globert stretched out across the gap between the table and bed, putting its imitation of a face right up to Devon's large ear. This time, the sound the slime made definitely came from that end, instead of the bowl, as it whispered softly, “If Merona begins talking about music and candy at any point, you must make every effort to flee. There's one more in there, they call 'Cibi', and that one has fully embraced her monstrosity."

Merona's rattle shook once. “Globert, don't you go afrightenin' him mo'e than he already is! Cibi don't come out 'less'n the'e's blood in the air anyhow, an' ah ain't givin' her an inch 'round innocent folk even then."

Devon was trying hard...very hard...to trust that one friendly personality they called 'Emby'. He was also trying hard not to be sick, though his face had already gone pale (and maybe just a touch green) and his stomach felt like it had stationed itself above his heart, just waiting for an excuse to jump out of his mouth. He hesitantly took the cup from the nightstand and sipped the contents...and sighed in relief as it proved to be a perfectly normal tea with a mild sweetness to it. It didn't do much to settle his stomach, but the taste and aroma did help calm him.

Now wearing a punk-rock band branded tee-shirt so long it nearly touched the floor beneath her coils, and stretched so wide at the neck that it couldn't help but hang off of one shoulder or the other, Merona smiled like his thirst was a good sign. “Alright now, Bibi's s'pposed t' be in charge o' the house, so ah'm goin' back under. You jus' holler if you need anythin', alright?"

The little Mouse could hardly imagine what he needed more than “help" right now, and was already swiftly giving up hope of that, so just nodded. Merona's face collapsed into unmitigated annoyance instantly. “Hey, how come I'm stuck baby-sitting?" she hissed with her fists on her hips.

Globert retreated into its bowl. For a creature with no eyes, it was amazing how clearly the sense of an eye-roll projected through its voice: “Oh, Heaven forbid being 'in charge of the house' should come with responsibilities once in a decade or so. The young man is far from a child. Just ensure he stays warm and—!" The surface erupted into a pillar that almost reached the ceiling as Globert suddenly announced, “The master has returned!" Merona's eyes shot wide, and her body went strangely stiff as the slime contorted and bubbled into the same Rooster it had imitated before. This time it formed a full bust, and in much greater detail, including coloring itself.

His feathers were a shade of grey so dark they bordered on being black, thin and reedy and tattered along more edges than weren't, and both his comb and wattle were thin and pale as burnt charcoal. Everything around and below his neck was hidden behind the stiffly starched collar and silky shoulders of some kind of cape. He glared down at Merona with eyes as red as hot iron. His voice was low but stern when he spoke, like a father trying to coax a child into being honest while knowing perfectly well that the last thing she'd said to him was a blatant lie. “Merona, what is this business about a captive? I am sure you would not dare to entertain the thought of...back-sliding..." His voice was deep, rough as the sound of heavy stones sliding across each other.

There was a cold warning in that word, and Merona's rattle shook faintly from the tremble that ran through her whole body. “...shit...," she hissed so softly she probably hadn't intended to voice the word at all.

A hand appeared in the imitation as the Rooster pinched the bridge between his eyes, just above his beak. “'Bibi', was it? As immature as ever, I see. Swap with one of the others if you cannot mind your manners."

The Snake waved her hands frantically as she shook her head from side to side so strongly it turned her body a little to each side. “N-no no! I got this!" she insisted, though she had to audibly swallow her nerves after saying it, “Sorry, master! No, we're not back-sliding, I swear!! We just found a kid who can see through our glamor — knew right away that we were dead, even with Snot wrapped around us — and Emby thought that was a big deal and brought him home to show to you! I think that was a terrible idea, of course!"

The massive bust's frown actually deepened, though Devon would have sworn that was impossible a moment before. “He is there with you?" No sooner had the question been spoken than the Rooster's eyes shifted toward the Mouse, as if he'd only just appeared in the room. Devon very nearly caved to the childish impulse to pull the blanket over his head, but managed to stop himself at just clutching it, as the enormous bust stretched across the gap to loom ominously above him.

After studying him for a second, the Rooster sighed once more. “He's making me into a giant again, isn't he?" Devon at least managed a nod. “Globert, scale means something to those who cannot change theirs on a whim. Down, now." The imitation shrank until the Rooster was barely any larger than Devon himself, and lowered to eye-level with him. “Is that better?"

“Y-yes, sir," the Mouse squeaked, setting aside the cup he'd still been clutching before he spilled tea on himself in his nervous state, “I'm...Devon..."

The Rooster inclined his head in polite acknowledgment. “You may call me 'Husk'. You may also feel free to instruct my associates in the subject of manners, as you seem to be the only one in the room remembering his. Please accept my apologies."

“Nono, that's okay!" Devon insisted quickly, definitely not wanting anyone here to start thinking he'd forgotten his place on the food-chain, “I'd just...really like to go home, sir..."

“And you will." The ease with which he said it was both shocking and reassuring to the little Mouse. There wasn't even a second's hesitation before it, and nothing in his tone suggested he was playing any sort of word-game. Husk even paused for a full three seconds, as if to prove there were no conditions or caveats being placed on that decision. Devon nearly teared up in relief right there. “Is it true you saw Merona for what she really is? What color were her eyes when you met her?"

He tried hard not to look disappointed that he wasn't being shown out the door that very second. “Uh...pink, sir."

“Is that so?" the Rooster sneered, turning his head to give a narrow look to the Rattler still standing silently beside the table.

She did a marvelous impression of Devon at just that moment, shrinking back from that glare with another faint rattle in her tail. “...A feral," Bibi whispered with eyes wide, “I swear it was just an animal..." Devon winced a little, feeling an odd sympathy for the Snake who looked at her master in much the same way Devon looked at her, though he didn't want to imagine why. So far, and especially now that he wasn't intimidatingly large, the Fowl had only seemed gruffly cordial toward them both.

But he was “master" to a vampire, after all...

Ignoring the attempt at an explanation, Husk returned his attention to Devon. “And what color does the facsimile before you right now appear to be?"

Devon looked him over briefly. “Mostly grey and white. Your eyes are bright red."

“Very well," Husk declared, reaching out one hand as if to pat Devon's head, though it remained hovering well above and a little in front of the boy, “Tell me when the whole of him turns red."

It was finally starting to really dawn on Devon that Husk was not in the room with them. He was somewhere else, very far away, with his expressions and speech being relayed by the slime and probably looking at some similar arrangement on his end. That distance became most apparent when it suddenly felt like it had closed...

The temperature in the room changed. A pressing chill crept into the air that made Devon's fur stand on end and locked his eyes, unblinking, on the protrusion of slime in front of him. Merona stood stiff and still, and even Globert's surface seemed to become more rigid. For several seconds nothing more than that seemed to happen, until a red hue washed through Husk's figure, making every bit of him as scarlet as his eyes, and tinted the portion of the slime still anchored in the bowl. “R-red! It's red!" Devon nearly shouted in his haste.

The pressure released, and Globert's surface quickly desaturated as Husk withdrew his outstretched hand. “Hmm, it does take quite a bit of effort to deceive your eyes already. Have you seen anything else that seemed odd, before you met Merona?"

“Oh...gods forgotten...," Devon moaned, rubbing his eyes. They suddenly felt dry and sore, like he'd gone swimming in a pool with too much chlorine. Pressing his hands gently over them, the young Mouse explained the bizarre creatures that had made him afraid to step outside his own house, and the encounter with the ghost that seemed to have started the whole thing.

Husk listened patiently, never questioning anything the boy described, though he did twist to give Merona a meaningful look when Devon described the ghost. “I see," he muttered softly when Devon grew quiet at the end, and said nothing more for several thoughtful minutes.

Devon started to get nervous again. “So...is there any way I could...not see that stuff anymore? Emby said you could help me," he prompted, though frankly he'd be perfectly satisfied with just being able to go home at this point. He wasn't even sure what time it was anymore, but knew for sure he'd been gone a lot longer than he should have been, and that his parents would be getting worried by now.

“Help you, yes," Husk assured him, but with a disheartening tone of pity in his voice, “But not blind you. There's hardly a power in the world that can do that now. If we were to gouge your eyes out right here and now, it would only hasten your transition from the world of light to one much more traumatizing." While Devon tried hard to take that as a round-about promise that his captors would not do any such thing, Husk's projection began to shift subtly, like he was walking somewhere while Globert kept the imitation in position. “You have been thrust onto a terrible path," the Rooster continued, lifting one hand to run his feathery fingertips along something the slime was not rendering, “And neither that ghost nor any other fel spirit put you upon it. This road was laid for you from birth."

“I-I don't want it!" the Mouse couldn't help squeaking. Sure, there was one tiny corner of his heart that said this sounded like the beginning of a great story about becoming a hero, defeating monsters, and possibly saving the world. But the much larger part of him, practically choking on the reality in which he stood, thought it sounded painful, terrifying, and way too heavy for his now-sixteen-year-old shoulders. The closest he wanted to get to it was a particularly well designed video game.

The look Husk gave him at that outburst forced Devon to reconsider every complaint he had ever made about chores, homework, and foods he didn't particularly care for. The contrast of Husk's words to his expression was almost as shocking, as he gently asked, “What fool would?" A book appeared in his hand, drawn from some shelf “off-screen", and Husk offered it to Devon.

A second, much smaller head sprang from his wrist. “Don't take it until he releases it," Globert warned, “The transfer will take a moment, and pulling will damage the object." The book turned a semi-transparent blue, clearly made from the slime's body, then began to peel away from the rough cover and thin pages of an actual book.

Husk continued while Globert was transferring the book, “This will help you understand what is happening to you, and begin to control it. In the meantime, have no fear of the 'monsters' you see around you. You have lived among them your entire life. You have fed them yourself. You now have the option to do so knowingly, and that is all that has changed."

“You mean they're harmless? Really?" He dearly wanted to believe that, but the memory of the savage and predatory appearance some of those things possessed made it very difficult for him to take to heart.

The pause before Husk's reply made him think he was right to be suspicious. “As harmless as a short temper," the Rooster insisted, though Devon wasn't quite sure how to interpret that. The slime around the book finished receding into Husk's hand, leaving the whole of the cover and pages clean and dry, and he gave it a little nudge to prompt Devon to take it before turning his attention to his underling. “Merona, you will look after this boy, until he has mastered—"

“What?!" the Snake and the Mouse both shouted at once.

“B-but I want to go home!" Devon insisted, nearly dropping the book he'd just been given.

“Master!" Merona began a similar plea, “I'm supposed to be—"

Husk was having none of it. “Be still!" he crowed, and both of them froze on the spot. “Merona, do I ever change my mind lightly?" The Rattler shook her head and her tail both quickly. “Then when I say that mountain has just become your second priority...?"

She swallowed with an audible gulp, answered in a solemn, steady voice. “The boy is now my first. I will guard him with my eternity, master," she promised.

“Wise," Husk hissed, then schooled his face back into a gentler expression before turning it toward Devon, “It has grown late where you are. A young mortal requires sleep. Merona will take you home in the morning, and explain your absence to your parents. You may rest free of worry in the meantime."

Devon had several strong doubts about that, but meekly answered, “Yes, sir," without voicing any of them.

Making a small, polite bow to both of them, the projection bid them, “Good day, then," and Globert quickly receded into its bowl.

Merona hammered a fist on the table beside it. “What in the name of all the forgotten gods?!" she yelled at the ceiling, “Who in Hell is this brat, and—?" Her head snapped down, expression going blank and her limp body started to tip sideways for a second, then lifted again with a giggle and turned toward Devon with a bright, genuinely friendly smile. “Hi! Sorry for the sudden switch-up, but Emby wants a word with Bibi...well, more of a scolding, actually," she snickered before she could help it, but quickly straightened up and cleared her throat, “Don't take it personally. She's 'Beach Bitch' for a reason, but outside her attitude she's not so bad. Look, she made you tea instead of cold tap-water!" the Snake pointed out like it was proof-positive her other personality had a heart of gold.

Devon's head listed to one side for a second before his brain caught up with the transition. “...Cici?"

The Snake nodded firmly, still keeping up the bright smile. “Yep! It stands for 'Costume Crazy'. I make all our dresses...and a whole lot of other things Bibi refuses to wear," she laughed, “Emby lets me cosplay from time to time, though, and sells a few when we need pocket-change. But enough about us," she slithered over beside the bed to fluff up the worn-out pillow behind him and straighten out the blanket at his feet, “I know it's hard, but you really should get some rest. It's nearly one in the morning, you know."

The little Mouse's chin fell slack. “One...in the...?!" He groaned, pressing his face into the book still in his hands. “My parents are going to kill me!"

Merona giggled. “Fat chance of that with us around," she mused, “But seriously: Emby's pretty great with people. Master just made you our ward, too, so Bibi's not going to let anything happen to you, either, even if she has to throw herself into daylight to stop it." The Snake paused for a hissed snicker, and leaned in close to whisper in his ear like she was sharing a juicy secret, “She's more afraid of disappointing the master than Emby is, but for all the wrong reasons I think. So don't you worry about a thing, okay?" Straightening up again, she tilted her head and pointed one finger toward her eye. “Want some help nodding off?"

Globert made a sound from his bowl like clearing his throat. “It would be unwise to begin forming a dependence on magic for such a daily necessity as sleeping."

She tilted her head, then lightly bonked her fist against it with a grin. “Whoops! That's true. My bad. Well, good night, then," the Snake waved as if she was leaving, then slithered back to the same trunk she'd pulled her shirt from and this time pulled out a large sewing kit and several partially assembled bits of cloth. Closing the trunk, the then turned off the one and only light in the room.

The darkness frightened Devon for a moment. He could hear Merona still slithering around in it, and the soft whisper of cloth being spread out. His eyes took a long time to adjust to the near perfect darkness, but when they did he found Merona coiled up at the table and threading a needle. As she started sewing in silence, save for the whisper of thread through the thin material, Devon resigned himself to being stuck here until morning at the very least. The Mouse reluctantly took his glasses off of his nose and set them on the nightstand, then curled up on his side, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders. He clutched the book to his chest like a favorite stuffed animal, though he had no idea what the title even was yet.

It was a little shocking how quickly he fell asleep after that.

Aunty Emby

The light above the table blinked on, stinging his eyes, and Devon instinctively pulled the blanket over his head like any other morning. A soft hiss from nearby reminded him it was not his mother coming to wake him up. “Time to go home, kid," Merona announced, already sheltered in a bell-bottom dress similar to what she'd worn yesterday...and looking thoroughly annoyed in it, “You're not supposed to be at school today, right?"

“... No," he made himself answer clearly as he sat up, reaching for his glasses, “Summer break. What time is it?" With the curtain doing its duty of sealing off the window, only the fact that he'd nodded off at all indicated to Devon that any time had passed inside this little apartment.

“Good. It's straight to your house, then," the Snake hissed, soundly strangely relieved as she tied the strings of the bonnet beneath her chin. She extended a hand toward Globbert's bowl. The slime reached out and slid up her sleeve like a magician's handkerchief, spreading from there across the rest of her body until she appeared to be completely coated in a think layer of gel, all of which suddenly turned black as oil. “It's ten o'clock outside. Emby insisted we let you have at least eight hours."

Devon groaned as he slipped out of the bed, bringing his new book with him and thumping it lightly against his forehead. “Gods forgotten, I hope Dad already went to work." His mother alone would be bad enough to deal with. He really didn't want to have both of them scolding him at once. “What can I even tell them? I'm in enough trouble without sounding like I went crazy overnight."

Slithering over to the door, Merona just shrugged. “That's Emby's problem," she hissed, “I'm done as soon as you're out this door." As if to deliberately encourage him to be swift about that, she opened it at just that moment. Not that he needed coaxing. Devon took two quick steps toward that door, fighting the temptation to sprint through it, before freezing in his tracks. Merona tilted her head at his hesitance, and took a quick glance outside herself. Then she looked back at him with a frown. “You see something, don't you?"

Devon could barely nod. Something was waiting outside, though he couldn't tell what. It was peeking around the edges of the frame with a couple dozen eyes on short stalks. Each and every one was squarely focused on him. Devon's tail stood up straight, and his knuckles grew white as he squeezed the book in his hands. “It's looking at me," he whispered. He'd taken care to ignore all the bizarre creatures he'd been seeing so far, in the hopes of not calling attention to himself. It had worked until now. This was the first time any of them had looked back at him...and he did not like the look it was giving him at all. He tried to remember what Husk at said the previous night, but couldn't shake the feeling that those eyes looked hungry.

Merona's tongue flicked out a couple of times as she seemed to think on something. “Okay," she hissed at last, slithering around in front of the door herself, “Stay there for a moment, then. And close your eyes."

He hoped she wasn't planning to just lead him by the hand with his eyes closed all the way home, but did as he was told. Devon heard her hissing something very quiet, but couldn't make out the words. Or maybe they weren't Heartherran. His skin turned suddenly cold and his eyes throbbed painfully when her voice rose unexpectedly and she screeched into the hall. “Okay, you can open them now."

Devon had to rub them for a minute before he could even attempt that. “Cheese! What was that?" he asked, finally managing to peek one eye open and check the door. Merona was standing beside it again, giving him a clear view, with her arms crossed over her breasts and her tail rattling very faintly with impatience.

“Something master taught us for...privacy. It's supposed to drive away spirits and spells. 'Anything lesser than an angel,' he said, so most everything. Now, you good?" she hissed, waving toward the door.

The little Mouse nodded, and Merona didn't wait for him before slipping out the door. Glancing up and down the hallway outside, she flashed a quick smile to the several heads poking out of other apartments curiously. “Sorry t' bothe' y'all! He just stepped on mah tail," she quickly excused the noise from earlier, putting a friendly arm around Devon's shoulders as the Mouse joined her. As soon as the neighbors tucked back into their own abodes, Merona added quietly, “Y' alright, shuga? Bibi didn't think the spell might hurt you'a' eyes."

Devon wasn't sure whether he should be proud or concerned about himself that he was starting to be able to keep up with her shifts in personality. “That's not why she told me to close them?" he asked, blinking at her with the slightly blood-shot orbs (though he couldn't see that, naturally).

Merona shook her head quickly, steering him toward the stairs leading out of the apartment complex. “That weren't no vampiric powa', shuga. That was sorcery. It sorta...pulls the ugly out o' us," she explained with an embarrassed look, “You don't wanna see that. Bibi's the best o' us at it, though. She even impressed master when he started teachin' us. So, you see anythin' concernin' now?"

Devon took a good look up and down the hall, and shook his head with a relieved sigh. Not only was there no sign of whatever creature had been lurking outside the door, there were absolutely none of the bizarre things in sight. Merona smiled proudly, then took his hand in hers as they made their way down the stairs...

There was a police car outside his house when they arrived. His mother was on the front porch talking to an officer (reciting Devon's entire life history, by the sound of it), and his father soon same out of the house carrying two fresh mugs of coffee. He handed one to his wife and the other to the grateful officer just as Devon and Merona came through the gate to the yard. “Uh...hi, Mom," Devon called, trying to sound cheerful about being home, though he was still just a little afraid—

Mrs. Whipwire almost had her arms around him before the mug shattered on the porch. She might have tried to hand it off to her husband, but he'd been too slow to react and a little thing like “broken glass" had dropped right off her list of priorities in that blink. “DEVON!!" she screamed, smothering her son against her shoulder, “Where have you been?! We've been worried sick!! We've had the police out looking — who are you?" She finally seemed to realize there was another person standing beside Devon, and immediately pulled him aside protectively.

Merona flashed a disarming smile and a little wave, but Devon spoke up before she could introduce herself. “It's okay, Mom," the Mouse insisted, “She took care of me last night, and—"

“Took care of you?!" his mother sounded more shocked than grateful, “Why didn't you call us?! What did she—?"

Mr. Whipwire and the officer, trotting into the yard, finally caught up. The older Mouse likewise threw his arms around Devon and Mrs. Whipwire comfortingly. “Honey, calm down. He's safe now. Let him tell us what happened."

“You know this family, ma'am?" the officer asked Merona, stepping subtly between her and the Whipwires, though that was more in an effort to calm Mrs. Whipwire than in concern for what Merona might do.

Mrs. Whipwire noticed the red edges around her son's eyes. “Oh honey, what did she give you?!" the Mouse asked in alarm, “You've been acting strange for weeks! Is she—?"

“Nothing, Mom!" Devon finally pushed back and got free of his parents' grip, though he nearly dropped his new book in the process, “Will you just listen for a minute?"

She wasn't listening. And she didn't respond to him. But she was very calm. It took Devon a second to realize she and his father both were looking over his shoulder at Merona, and so was the officer. Devon followed the line of their wordless gaze straight into the Snake's wide, unblinking eyes. Her pupils were slits so thin they were barely visible in bright red pools surrounding them. “Land's sake," Merona chuckled softly, giving her parasol a little twirl above her head, “Will you listen t' all this fuss? Now, y'all already know Devon he'e's prone t' wanderin' off an' gettin' lost, don't you?"

Devon was nothing of the sort, of course, and felt just a little insulted at the idea. He was about to argue when his father quietly agreed, “Right...he is," in a dull monotone. The younger Mouse's mouth fell open in shock.

Merona continued, “Tha's right. Y'all shoulda called me first, you know? Aunty Emby can always find him, can't I?" she smirked.

Mrs. Whipwire nodded slowly. “Right...we should have...called you..."

“'Aunty Emby'?" Devon quirked a brow.

“Shhh," Merona warned quietly, never breaking contact with the eyes she had collected in her gaze. “Ah'm Merona Embereyes," she addressed the officer at last, “Ah'm Devon's godmother. He calls me 'Aunty Emby'," the Snake smiled like the title stemmed from some cherished memory, “His parents love him very dearly, an' were in such a panic they forgot the obvious person t' ask first."

“Right, ma'am...I'll put it in...the report," the officer promised dully.

“Ah'd be right mighty appreciative o' that, sir," the Snake smiled. Devon's belly growled, and Merona's pupils finally expanded and the color of her eyes paled back to near white. “Oh, ah'm sorry, shuga. It's been a long while since breakfast, hasn't it? May ah join you fo' lunch?" she asked of Mr. and Mrs. Whipwire, who just seemed to be coming out of their daze.

“Oh! Oh, of course, Aunty Emby. Please come in," Mrs. Whipwire insisted, sounding genuinely calm and relieved now. She caught Devon in another hug, then steered him into the house to fill his belly, followed closely by Merona and leaving her husband to call off the search and see off the officer.