ONCE UPON A WARLOCK ✓

A ROSE STALK FOR A VENA CAVA

JACK FROST HITS HIM WITH a minus-degree slap on the face, congealing his eyelashes and his already crusty lips in an instant but Julius puffs a visible heatwave on his face -- not that he's uncomfortable with the cold but he's still in love with the torridness of his room -- and takes a step out of his compound and unto the pavement for the first time in a very long while.

The Christmas cheer in the air is just as thick as the horrible smog creeping into suburbia. All neighbouring houses have some colorful lights or the other on trees giving this street a semblance of the circus. Humans and their beliefs, mistletoes and love. Both organic and inorganic of those tufty twines adorn every picket fence which is rather ironic to be on his house where love doesn't exist. Must be Blinky's handiwork.

Finally picking what side to wander off, a snicker slips out of Julius. It's funny and kind of weird -- but everyone knows the Sullivan household is the origin of weirdness. His brother has a shopping list for the ingredients to cook up his boyfriend. His father, too. Un-fortunately, Abigail is inedible due to her morbus blood.

His home is full of demons. Ghosts that do not exist in his life, that's why he feels like Kevin in Home Alone on this Christmas night fated with dread. His irises switch color into a sad sanguine that x-rays into a blue bungalow across the street. It's bouncing up-and-down with sugary noise and all he sees is a redhead simulation of the Weasleys jollying all over a messed red velvet cake.

Oh how Julius loves red velvet.

And their sweetness is bothering him. Eating into him like a thorn of saccharine. He snaps his fingers and their Christmas tree -- stocked with stocked stockings -- lights up in crimson flames.

Much better. Their petrified screams; music to his ears.

Julius stuffs his hands into his pocket, pulls his head low and drags himself across the street. Everything just seem to tick him off. His nerve strings are so horny he might skin this innocent wiener dog licking his shoes.

A charcoal Chevrolet convertible cramped with some wild emos drunk off their black asses like skunks zoom past Julius, the back tires consequently drifting snow on his laps. His left eye twitches in annoyance, his irises reddens too, throwing that tire off its screws and the car crashes into a  fire hydrant.

All calls, texts and visits from his friends have been ignored so far. Pharaoh and Gigi's numbers have been blacklisted that very day they called to ask about Ray's whereabouts -- the very fucking person who gave them his number will rot in Tartarus -- and even Jericho and the gang found a way to contact him. Julius just isn't in the mood to speak, meet or worstle, see anybody for like, forever.

No word from Ezra either.

Julius knows Ray paid him a visit. Stupid, naiive Ray. The nerve. Julius sighs, palming his temple. Too lazy, too miserable to think or ponder anything, he has had a leash on his mind for a long time now but he releases to find traces of none other than Abigail lurking within corners of his subconscious.

Julius still doesn't get this. Abigail actually betrayed her brother? Like, she found out that poinard all this while and kept quiet about it. She even had the guts to confront someone like Ian Sullivan and strike a deal with him. She loathed Ray all this while, and first the feeling was mutual -- with Julius that is.

Julius had despised Ray Ramirez. He might be caring and softhearted but beneath is a shadow of his superstratum. This shadow is pastel white with selfishness and avarice, impulsiveness and temerity. It's hard not to hate such a being. But now, now Julius is nothing but a model of obfuscation.

Now he wonders how Ray will taste. Will it be like the same as the damned rest or different on his tongue?

"Hark! The herald-angels sing,"