Grave Magic

Chapter One

       A.N.- Okay. This is a rush job, admittedly. I will be coming back around one day to edit and change this. -Blue 

    L Aweley:

       Nickelson curled around my neck and flicked his tongue. Beautiful snakey boy. I kept my face stone-like as I carefully watched the people around me on the train. It was strange no one had mentioned the giant green snake around my neck. He did look like a green mamba, so maybe they didn't want to get close. Understandable. 

I glanced out the window and seeing my reflection almost made me laugh. An unidentifiable person in sunglasses with a snake around their neck on a train. Everything I had heard about America made me want to walk around a Walmart like this. That'd be fun. I sighed, and Nickelson flickered his tongue again. 

I found it annoying I couldn't talk to him in public. Humans would freak about a talking snake, and The Committee was already up to my damn ass about assignments. I tickled Nickelson's chin, and he happily hissed. I wonder how the locals will respond to my snake. I've never been to a small midwestern town, especially where death rituals were still alive. Death Rituals were still a thing, of course, but in America? In a small Midwestern but also sort of southern town? No, that was strange. 

    I grimaced as the train screeched to a halt. I felt it in my teeth, and I knew Nickelson wasn't fond of it either. I stood up and grabbed my bag, and someone knocked into me.

     "Watch it!" I snapped, staring up at the person. He looked very masculine, big muscles, all that sort of shite. He growled, then walked off. Seriously, if people are going to be this rude, I might as well drop off the grid. 

   Speaking of the grid. I pulled my phone out of my sweatshirt pocket and clicked it on. I allowed myself a small groan as I stepped off onto the platform. No service. Of course. I looked up, searching for the two people I was supposed to spend the next few months with. The Committee had shown me a photo of the Mortician, as they were known. 

    They looked to be a tall Native American person, with long, dark brown braids. In the pic, they had been wearing a wood mask- it didn't look all that well made, very rough- and had a long staff with a lantern on the end, like some sort of Little Bo Peep Reaper. I snickered at the idea. 

    I looked around again, still seeing no one that fit the picture. Something fluttered above, and I glanced up. An owl? Odd, it was the middle of the day. Probably a Familiar. Wait. Had the Mortician had an owl Familiar? I glanced at Nickelson, and he gave a little nod. Yep, a Familiar. 

    "Hey!" I looked over, even though it not might be for me. Actually- Of course it was for me, I was the only one on the platform. There was a tall girl running towards me, necklaces clinking and short brown hair covering her face. She skidded to a stop, then grabbed my hand to vigorously shook it. 

     "Heya, I'm Morag! You're L, right?!" She smiled as I attempted to wrench my hand away. 

"Yes, I'm L. I'm surprised you know my name, I don't know you." 

     I tried to smile, but I didn't manage. I hate being jumped upon or at. I mean, I didn't know this girl or anything. Nickelson hissed something that sounded like a Gaelic word for Familiar. I looked out the corner of my eye, and he nodded again. Another Familiar- and in Human form. There must be at least two Witches or Warlocks nearby. I looked at the girl.

"Cut to the chase. I'm here for an assignment, I'd like to get it started." 

Morag nodded, then began to walk away. I followed her through the surprising empty train station. Seriously, I felt like I was about to be pulled to the side and murdered. Or that people were hiding from me. I shivered, and Nickelson coiled a bit tighter. 

"Are you okay?" Morag asked, turning around. I noticed her eyes almost shifting color. Yes, I was comforted now. 

"Fine. Just not used to the silence." I shrugged, trying to pass it off as new-place jitters. Morag smiled, showing off sharp, canine teeth. 

"You best be used to it. The plains are quite silent." 

I smiled back, all the while hoping I could reach my knife if things came to blows. Morag turned around, then began to skip. I walked more quickly, trying to keep up with her long stride. 

We reached outside, and I noticed an honest-to-Amartha horse cart. Who even used those anymore? There was a hunched over figure sitting on the bench, long brown braids covering their face. There was no horse attached to the cart, but there was obviously meant to be one. Morag jumped up, onto the bench, beside the driver. 

"Hey, Len! I got the Warlock. Where's Kendall and Frankie?" She leaned over and gave 'Len' a side hug. I got a glimpse of their face, showing angry eyes and a big grimace. Len shrugged Morag off, then grunted. 

"I don't know where Ken is. Frankie's getting the corpse." 

I blanched and choked a bit. If Morag stayed as a Human, plus two others with me- Someone might have to sit in the back, with the corpse. Oh, Amartha and Gilligan, kill me now. Len looked over to me, showing obvious contempt. 

"I'm Len. Fluctuating pronouns. He/Him right now. And you?" 

He glared down at me, almost daring me to challenge him. I didn't know what challenge. But he was challenging me. 

"I'm L. They/them. This is Nickelson." I gestured to him, still my bright green scarf. Len studied him before nodding and turning. I guess I passed? Morag leaned over for my suitcase. 

"Here! Hand it over, then crawl on up here!" 

I handed her it, and she hefted it into the back. I crawled onto the bench, and Nickelson hissed. 

"Be careful." I glanced around before asking Morag a question. 

"Wait, is it safe? For Nickelson to talk?" I asked, my voice low. Morag laughed and slapped Len on the back, almost knocking him off the bench. 

"Yes, Perfectly safe." She confirmed, smiling. Her teeth were still disturbing, and I was still wary of her. She was too bubbly and happy. 

"Thank Goodness. I've had to be quiet for almost two days straight." 

Nickelson sighed, uncoiling a bit, letting himself lay all over my arms. Morag gasped and reached out to touch my shoulder gently. 

"I could never imagine staying quiet for so long. We have so much freedom here, I almost forgot it would not be normal out of our little bubble." 

I shrugged, and Nickelson mimicked the movement. 

"I'm a bit used to it. Living in Dublin would do that to you." 

Nickelson's tongue flickered out again. He did that a lot, now that I think about it. The others got into conversation, Nickelson answering their questions on Dublin and traveling and all that. Honestly, it wasn't all that- well, I had been lots of places, and they hadn't. Of course, they're curious. Stupid L.

"Hey, who's this?" 

Morag and Len looked away from the amazingly interesting conversation about buildings in other places. I also glanced over. It was the Mortician, holding their lanterned staff and wearing the creepy wooden mask. In the hand that didn't hold the staff, they were dragging a long, dark bag. I felt myself choke again, both with fear and disgust.

"It's our guest, Frankie," Morag said, leaning into my side. I hated this contact. "We gotta be nice to our guest." 

I could almost feel Morag smile a carnivorous smile, and I know she felt me shudder. Frankie tilted their head, the creepy smile of the mask taunting. 

"Yeah, ok. Help me get Mr. Smitherrs up here." Frankie lowered their voice. "Feels like this man ate nothing but cheese and corn, my gods."