Enter Thy Hallowed Halls (Chapter 7: De Exorcizandis)

Donovan fought for his life on the floor. He was reaching up and grabbing for something that you could not see. The blankets that already swamped the floor were starting to coil around his feet, grabbing, shifting as if alive.

You shoved the camera off your lap and onto a stool. You didn’t care what happened after that, even as the camera fell off balance.

Donovan was shouting obscenities, but the comforters and sheets swarmed over his face. He was muted in a blink, but he was still putting up a blind fight.

You tripped getting out of your chair, hand colliding with the bottom end of the crucifix sitting over the side of the bed. It jostled from its place, slipping from your grip and onto the floor.

You heard a shriek as the blankets ripped and parted to avoid even touching the cross from its fall. Your stumble cost you momentum.Your hands went deep in the covered floor, and trying to wrench them free was futile. All of the cotton and fabric held your hands down in something impossibly comparable to stone. There was some give, but the trap was pulling back at you. You were trying not to think about what would happen when your knuckles hit the floorboards.

Donovan was still yelling his heart out. You could make out colorful language through the layers keeping him quiet. You were only going to be worried about him if he exhausted all his air. At this rate though, you started worrying anyway.

“Some demon you are,” you grunted, a half-yell while you tried to wrench your arms free of the floor.

Donovan, somehow in response as if he could hear you beneath those blankets, ceremoniously raised his arm, which was being fought back down with the sheets snaking up to his elbow.

You didn’t intend to watch him past the unceremonious flip of his middle finger, but you couldn’t seem to look away when a dark smoke started billowing from under the pile of blankets, enveloping his arm.

You either thought Donovan chose now of all times to be spiteful, or the specter was now taking the time to harm him. You didn’t care for either option.

Ice Cold

Liam watched as Blank stared out of the garage, following his gaze to a pair of figures ascending the driveway.

Blaz, at the lead, was surfing across a blast of water, and the figure behind her was skating on a tow line across the water that she seemed to be freezing in an instant. Both of them were hooping and hollering, laughter cascading across the hill until they put on the brakes in the lawn outside the garage. Blaz was running into the garage, too wide of a grin on her face.

“Liam! Blank!” She ran up to Liam, and they wrapped each other in a hug. She went to Blank, and they weren’t as receptive. Even though Blaz was obviously hesitant, it was clear she was riding a joyful high that she wanted to share. She got her hug, but Blank was too focused staring at the figure at the edge of the garage, who was staring right back.

There was a quiet tension simmering, of recognition, acknowledgement. Blaz was quick to read the room, muttering some profanity and shrinking back away from Blank.

“Arctic Fox,” they addressed.

“Blank,” she returned, straightening her wind-blown hijab.

“Blank! Um,” Blaz spoke up. “She’s chill, she’s not here to do anything, I swear. She just wanted to make sure I got home safe.”

“So you led her here?” Blank snapped. Blaz was shaken up by the retort, but Rabab, the Arctic Fox, stepped in.

“She is right. I’m not a vengeful hero today. I’m just making sure Blaz got home safe for dinner.” She flashed a smile. Blank wasn’t quite put at ease, and Blaz was entirely sheepish, holding onto Liam.

“How nice of you,” Blank said. He turned slightly, and without breaking their gaze, he spoke to Blaz and Liam. “Get upstairs, get your dinner.”

And without a moment’s notice, Liam was pulling Blaz along. Rabab waved her a pleasant goodbye, and the door shut behind them, leaving Blank and Rabab at the edge of the garage. Rabab was the first to speak.

“You know, Mr. Gedeon. Blaz speaks of you highly. You and Grey are apparently very kind and selfless for her.” Rabab was fishing out something out of a purse. A metallic card made it into her hand, held out for Blank. Blank took it hesitantly without taking his eyes off Rabab. “That kind of selflessness doesn’t befit a villain, you know.” She sighed. “I do not care what you do with that card. It’s incredibly disposable and only allows you to contact a member of the league.” She slipped in half of a chuckle. “Not someone like me, of course. A higher-up, specifically all those who told me to give you this card. ‘Your talents and abilities could be used for good,’ they said. ‘Those selfless mannerisms belong to a hero.’” She looked from the card to meet his eyes.

“But do what you will. I’m not here to convince you of anything you might have heard before. Don’t shoot the messenger, as they say. Blaz is a wonderful hero, with a wonderful family. I just wished to see her home. That’s all.” In a courteous manner, she bowed herself slightly. “Good night, Mr. Gedeon.” She turned, readying herself to fly down the hill with the sheet of ice on the driveway when she realized how invasive it was. “Oh, the ice should melt in about an hour, but you might have known about that from before. Sorry about the mess.” After one last “good night,” the Arctic Fox was blazing back down the driveway on her skates.

Blank was left with the card in their hand. By now, the sun was well below the horizon, and the chill of the night was finally settling in. There was an ounce of compassion that flared in Blank for a moment, followed by a strong disgust for the rhetoric. So selfless of heroes, how careless they truly become. He stared for a good while at the ice in the driveway, watching it start to drip and melt.

As he turned to go inside, he chucked the card into his workshop trash can. Nothing good would ever come of that card. Nothing good would ever come of the heroes in their life.

An Adventure in Your Own Backyard

The light that remained from bright lanterns on the street faded. Lloyd was fading away from the light until nothing but the fire’s light lit behind him. He was bouncing into time with the rhythm of a fiddle. Everest was doing her best to follow, bridged between the light and the dark. Lloyd led her into a dance that Everest clumsily followed.

Lloyd had to break from the dance, laughing off her nervousness for her. He gave her the steps to the dance. It was traditional, instinct. Once more, Everest allowed herself to be led.

It was slow starting out, but when her blood was pumping, and the whirl of light and dark faded into all eyes on Lloyd, Everest found herself content.

She smiled. She grinned.

The music picked up.

The choreography shifted.

Everest felt light on her feet.

She laughed.

Lloyd laughed, triumphant.

As the music died with fanfare and flair, and the cheering signaled a final hoorah for celebration, Lloyd led Everest in a quiet waltz away from the crowd and under some lantern light. Everest was breathing heavily from exertion and adrenaline. Lloyd wasn’t as fatigued, but there was some heft to his chest that he shared with Everest. Through their heavy breath, they shared a light, wordless laugh. Everest was nervous coming down from her energetic high. Lloyd was proud to have her out of her shell for once. He leaned down, cupping her chin with his thumb and index. Everest went still.

It was brief, but Lloyd was pressing his lips to hers. Eyes fluttered shut.

She didn’t protest.

She grabbed his cheeks and savored the embrace instead.

Everest had to come up for air eventually, and she pulled back, red finally enveloping her face. Lloyd hardly moved, half-stunned with a cocky grin.

They shared a warmth between their breaths. It reminded Everest of the bonfire, the adrenaline, a sense of freedom she hadn’t been exposed to in a while.

She pulled Lloyd for a second kiss.