Grave Magic

Chapter Eleven

L Aweley: 

I lay in bed, awake. The rising sun has started to streak the sky wonderful colors, but I cannot focus on that. 

Last night... Last night, I watched Frankie Locklear, the only Mortician for miles and miles, kill a monster with basically their bare hands.  And-- Gods, it was basically a person. A human-person, just some innocent that died outside in the wild. 

Frankie finally told me why they bury bodies so deeply. Six feet of dirt doesn't do shit against a determined monster. That's why the bodies are buried so deep. 

I almost wish they hadn't told me. I almost wish that they had just shoved me back in my room, talked down to me, and said 'you are too stupid, too cowardly for this. Go into your room and be blissful in your ignorance.' 

But they're too nice for that, I think. 

Yes, I do not know them very well. I'll be the first to admit that. 

But they are so kind. 

They do not have to be polite to me. They do not have to act how they are,  yet they treat me well. 

I-- I like their face, when they aren't wearing the mask. 

Is that weird? It feels weird to say it. 

I groan into my hands, quietly. I'm still not sure about thick these walls are, and I don't really want to be caught moping about my decisions at... I pick up my phone. 

5:34 in the morning???

I do not want to exist, currently. 

But I drag myself out of bed, and I force myself to put on clothes. Nickelson has still not reared his head, and I have to wonder where he sheltered for the night. When I check my phone again for the time, barely ten minutes have passed. 

5:44 in the morning. 

Yet I can hear someone clattering about in the kitchen, which does encourage me to slowly exit my room, careful not to wake anyone else. (if someone was still sleeping, of course. I wanted to be a courteous house guest.) 

I walk into the kitchen and find Frankie, clattering about, making tea. There's a kettle on the stove that seems to be warming up beside a skillet with eggs already cooking. They don't seem to notice me, as their mask is on their face, probably blocking their peripheral vision. 

Oh no. I don't know how to go on. 

My stomach clenches at the thought of saying something, disturbing this peace that Frankie has found in the moment. Yet, I cannot just stand  here, watching. It is intruding on a private moment. Which is better? To disturb, or to be strange? 

I don't want to do anything. I almost turn on my heel to go back to my bedroom, maybe stay there until my bones are clean and the world has burned, never having to make another decision that might lead to awkwardness. 

But Frankie sees me, and I must stay. 

"Morning, L. Do you want some eggs and toast? Tea, maybe?" They say, moving the kettle off the stove.  I don't know how to respond, really, but I open my mouth to try. 

"Uh, yeah. May I have tea with the other stuff?" I must sound so awkward, like a calf only just learning to walk. Words-- Gods, I hate them. 

In only a bit, there's breakfast on the table. Morag has appeared from seemingly nowhere, like she walked through multiple walls, and behind her, in slithers Nickelson. Before I have an opportunity to speak with him about the fact that he disappeared, Len and Kendall stumble in.  

Len walks up to Frankie and hugs them, showing an arm clad in purple bracelet upon purple bracelet. Frankie looks at it, smiling. 

"Alright, Len. Have some tea." 

Len sits down and sprawls over the table, nearly spilling onto the side where I sit, Nickelson now around my shoulders. Morag is sitting beside me speaking quietly with Kendall. Frankie remains by the stove, ladling out portions. 

I wish I could do more-- or less. I don't know. This is just so domestic. They know who they are. They know how to exist with each other, protect their little life that they have crafted. 

And I am the parasite, sent to wreck this all. 

The Great Committee will be expecting a status report by the end of the week. What do I say? 

Yes, hello, Committee, the corspes come to life here and you didn't tell me that. The Mortician is not afraid to kill these monsters and they bury deeper than regulation.

Would I confront them about why I'm here? What I'm really supposed to be doing? 

No. I could never do it. 

"Here, L." Food is placed in front of me. Steam curls upwards, and my stomach actually manages to rumble slightly. I-- I have not felt hungry, really, in a good while. There's also a mug of tea that smells like dirt. 

But not, like, normal dirt. Not just dusty city dirt or the stuff you'd find in any old front garden. It smells like the wood's dirt, when the leaves are biodegrading and there's rotting wood and the fresh plants that are still wet from last night's rain storm. It smells like there's a creek near the dirt, and it's a wild creek, one not tamed by anyone yet. 

Maybe that's a little dramatic. I take a sip of the tea. 

I nearly spit it out when it tastes the same as it smells, with admittedly stronger hints of mint. It's not that it tastes bad, it's that I didn't really-- well, expect it. 

This tea probably has magic in it. I should be more wary, but it's a bit addicting, honestly. Is that crazy? No, I don't think so. 

Nickelson flickers his tongue in my ear, and I flinch, nearly dropping the mug. 

"Stop it." I hiss quietly. I don't want to have a fight with my familiar in front of these people. I want them to think of me well, even if they probably shouldn't. 

After a breakfast that I feel awkward for even seeing, I find myself outside with Nickelson, alone. I look down at him, his green head so seemingly innocent. His tongue flickers out, testing the air. I furrow my brow, steeling my nerves. 

"Nickelson, where were you last night?" I say. His tongue flickers again. 

"Somewhere and everywhere, my dear L." Nickelson says, starting to slide down my arm and twist around, like he's going to squeeze me to death. "I was exploring, of course. I need to know where we are." 

"Nickelson! You can't just-- You can't just run away like that!" I take a deep breath, steadying myself. If I don't stop to breathe, I think I might start crying. And after this Frankie wants me to help them with something-- though they haven't told me what exactly we'll be doing. I don't want to cry, then. 

"You scared me, dude. You can't just do that." 

Nickelson stares at me, and I almost believe that his eyes can convey human emotions in this moment. 

But the time passes. 

"I am sorry, Aweley. It will not happen again, I assure you." 

I sigh and lean against the side of the wall. It's time to move on to the next thing on the docket today. I can talk to Nickelson about this later. 

"Okay. Come on, Nickelson. I have to do something for Frankie."