Archaic ||Peterick||

Cheating Death and Demons

"Patrick."

It was Frank's first word, when he opened the door. All things considered, he did not look very happy to see him. Maybe it was warranted. Probably. It was the sixth time this had happened since Patrick had left high school. He did not enjoy Frank's company, and Frank didn't enjoy his. They despised each other, although kept the animosity to a minimum while working together. The minimum for them, though, was quite a lot.

"Come in." Frank said, stepping away from the door. Patrick hopped over the threshold quite gracefully, careful not to disturb the salt line right at the door. He'd never really understood why Frank did that, and then proceeded to take demon hosts into his house. It didn't make much sense.

Frank stared at Patrick for about a minute of edgy silence, as if paying homage to the death of their long held streak of ignoring each other's existence. Patrick wasn't at all intimidated by Frank, even though he had a three inch height advantage over him, and a death stare that'd make Lucifer quake in his shoes. Patrick had his own secret weapon, an aura of danger which hung around him, a corrupted halo, that made him seem more like a tall, hunched undertaker hiding daggers under a long, black cloak rather than what he was, a short, perfectly poised college student on a gap year, hiding silver knives and tiny bottles of arsenic in the pockets of a tangerine and terracotta striped cardigan.

"Who is it?" he asked, breaking the silence. Frank flinched before he answered.

"Nobody major. Just a low level demon, but there's something about Tyler, it always comes back. I can't get it out permanently."

A silence. A dusty wind blew through the halls.

"I'm taking it that you haven't tried killing him and resurrecting him again."

"No. I'm not doing that to Tyler. Don't you think he's been through enough already?" Frank said, starting to walk up the stairs. About halfway up, he turned around and looked down at Patrick. "Did you just tell me, in a convoluted way, to turn Tyler off and turn him back on again?" he asked, suspiciously. Patrick put on an innocent face.

"No, I just told you to do the obvious thing and take his soul, separate the demon from it and give the soul back to him. Easy."

Frank's seething fury at his rival boiled over.

"Oh, easy for you to say, after graduating top of your class at the academy, that must be so simple. It's just too bad that you had to cheat to even finish the exam. Black magic really helps when you spent half of practicals doodling in the margins of your spellbook!"

"Shut up, Frank. Just because you're second to me, doesn't mean you have to be bitter about it."

"I was only second to you because you brought back a lost soul to do your practical for you! You have to fucking kill someone for that, don't think I don't know that!"

Ryan faded into the mirror behind him, and glared at Patrick. Patrick made a face back at him. Frank whirled around.

"Honestly, as far as I'm concerned, it was fair game. You tried to poison me. Or rather, your vampire boyfriend did. I know about that whole thing with the Way brothers. We used to be friends once. I know all your secrets." Patrick said. Ryan cackled.

"Even the ones you never told him."

Frank gritted his teeth. Patrick continued.

"Now, as much as I'd love to expose you for the necrophilia obsessive fake that you really are, we have a demon to exorcise, I believe, and my friend is waiting in the car."

"You mean your vampire boyfriend?" Frank sniped. Patrick walked past him on the stairs, clutching his black sheep wool bad luck charm in his left hand. He hoped that that would give him enough power, along with the few ladders he'd walked under, and the many times he'd coaxed his cat, Tiffany to walk across his path, to summon Ryan's black magic again. If not, there was a high chance he wouldn't be able to save Tyler again.

Patrick reached the landing, and opened the door to Tyler's room. The scrawny boy lay on the bed, shivering. Another boy from Patrick's old Magic-Chemistry class, Josh looked around.

"Oh. It's you."

A lot of people didn't like Patrick. He couldn't understand why. He was likeable enough. He guessed they were just jealous.

"It's me." He said, sitting down. Ryan sat in the mirror, in the refection of the empty chair across from him. Patrick shivered, and glared at the mirror.

"Sorry. " Ryan said, getting up quickly.

Tyler looked at the three, wide eyed.

"Why are you here?" Ty asked.

"I'm here to get the demon out of you." Patrick replied.

Josh looked confused.

"But Frank did that yesterday."

"Yeah, he said I could stay here for a bit. He seemed a bit off this morning, though."

Patrick turned around. Frank was standing in the doorway, a silver knife shining in the half-light.

"Frank, what are you doing?" Patrick asked. Frank's eye twitched. He gulped. And the pupils in his eyes began to twist, like a whirlpool. Patrick picked his own dagger out of the lining of his cardigan.

"Frank?" he asked, again. Frank's voice jittered.

"Whatever it wants me to."

The pupils exploded into the rest of his eye. They turned fully mars black, empty, devoid of a human soul. A smile crept up Frank's cheeks.

"Lucifer has a message for you, Patrick. He says he wants you dead."