One ♰ Late Spring
TEN YEARS AND TWO DAYS BEFORE THE DEATH OF AILETH MORGENSTERN.
[Coney Island, 1999. AFTERNOON.]
A six-year-old PERCY sits in his assigned spot at the beach, head down as he does his best to stay out of trouble. NANCY BOBOFIT— his tormentor in the making— is perched next to him, peanut butter infested fists waiting to take a swing at anyone she deems a threat to her peace.
Their group from the school trip has settled on this particular spot along the coast, a fact that Percy doesn't mind. The sea is pretty— the tide falls back when he leaves and inches forth when he creeps closer to the shore, as though it's drawn to him. Most of the kids have already begun to inch away from Nancy, but he doesn't— at this age she's still taller than him, and he's seen enough of what she's done to kids like him to know that if he does anything out of line to provoke her, he's going to return home black and blue and probably with a broken bone or two.
Not that he minds. Percy can take it, he's had plenty of practice with Gabe at home. But he knows from his last round with his stepfather that the sight of him injured makes his mom upset, and that's the last thing he wants.
So he does his best not to do anything that may draw Nancy's attention, but it appears being careful and minding his own business isn't enough— because at one point Nancy turns to him, scowling at him as though he's just shredded her favorite teddy bear and tossed the pieces into the ocean.
"You're too close to me!" she cries out, glaring in his direction.
It's okay, Percy tells himself. Gabe gets like this, too— everyone has bad days, right?
So he mutters a sorry under his breath and moves a good few meters away, bringing the tools he's playing with closer to him as he starts to work on another sandcastle (all while sneaking glances back at Nancy to see if there's any chance he'll be able to go back and finish the previous one— he's been working on it since they got here, and as much as he wants to get home unscathed, it doesn't sit well with him that he has to move away because of her).
And yet even that's not enough to satisfy her. Of course not. Soon enough Percy gets a fistful of sand thrown in his face, and Nancy has her tongue stuck out at him— right about the meanest gesture a six year old could ever offer, on top of the list alongside calling someone names.
He sputters, choking on the sand and instinctively starts scratching at his eyes, hoping to stop the stinging. (Nancy's laughing, he's sure, but he reminds himself not to do anything that might end up getting him hurt. Again: Percy doesn't care for self-preservation, but he does care for how his mother might feel.)
From his peripherals he sees a girl with pale, white-gold locks bend down next to him. He shifts away immediately and stumbles over himself, worried that she's one of Nancy's friends and is going to start tormenting him, too.
The girl's fingers close around his wrist and he's getting ready to start kicking and running in the other direction, but her touch is gentle as she pulls him back into a sitting position, and when she offers him a tissue and tells him, he shouldn't scratch with his hands because it'll cause infection, it occurs to him that she's not going to hurt him.
Shoulders slumping slightly, Percy takes the tissue and uses it to smear away the tears that are mixing with the sand from his eyes.
"Thanks," he tells her.
Behind them, there's a kicking sound— when Percy turns around, there's a lump of sand with a dent where Nancy must've kicked it just moments ago.
Percy is careful not to raise his voice because he doesn't want the girl to think of him as rude or anything and abandon him, but he frowns anyways as he tells her, "Nancy, that wasn't very nice — I've been working on that sandcastle since I got here."
Wrong statement. Nancy scowls, kicking up some more sand for good measure, and Percy reminds himself, don't get into fights.
He turns to avoid the sand flying through the air, and he hears the girl speak, "Leave him alone."
(He can't help but think her voice is awfully pretty, and that it's unfair for her to have to waste it on Nancy.)
"Got yourself a girlfriend, haven't you?" Nancy sneers, hands on hips. "Pathetic! Go away."
"You're so mean," the girl says, raising her voice. "He hasn't done anything to you!"
It's true, so for lack of a better comeback, Nancy shoves out her hand to push the girl away, pulling on her hair as an afterthought. The girl dodges Nancy's fist, but her fingers close around her hair and she stumbles into Percy.
The two of them both crash down onto the sand, destroying the second sandcastle he's just started on.
She turns to him, the look on her face one bordering on devastation. "I'm so sorry!" she blurts out, getting to her feet. "I really didn't —"
"— It's okay," he tells her, but Nancy is already snickering, and the girl doesn't smile.
"You can't even stand properly! And let's not start with your weird eyes."
At that Percy turns to look at her eyes— they're a fathomless black color that reminds him of looking at the night sky in the darkest hour, of tumbling down an endless abyss . . . a timeless kind of beautiful, like Death.
"They're not weird," he says. "I think they're pretty."
"They're black!" Nancy exclaims. "What kind of blonde — if you can even consider her dumb, weird hair color blonde — has black eyes?"
At that the girl looks like she's about to cry, and Percy feels horrible— she'd come over to help him, and now she's being harassed too.
"I think we should go," he says, taking her hand and squeezing it lightly in consolation. "You can build sandcastles with me if you want," he adds when she sniffs, continuing to look upset.
"Losers," Nancy scoffs, but she actually looks hurt, as if she, too, wants someone to offer to build sandcastles with her.
Percy briefly considers inviting Nancy to play with them, but the redhead's been nothing but mean to him and his new friend, and so the notion is pushed from his mind as he watches her stick her tongue out at both of them and leave.
"Hmph," Percy declares at her retreating figure. "Good riddance."
The girl doesn't bother to correct him, and he turns to her, hand extended and waiting to be shook.
"I'm Percy. You?"
"Aileth," she answers.
(Such a pretty name for a pretty girl. He drags her away into the distance, and he memorizes the feeling of her hand in his.)
SCENE ENDS.
PRESENT DAY.
Aileth has always known about monsters.
I. She's five when a one-eyed man takes a seat across from her at the local diner. She's all alone— her mom's gone to the bathroom and her dad is at the counter ordering food. He says something that sounds like hello to her, like any normal and polite person would. He has a strange Greek accent and Aileth thinks it's weird that there's only one eye in the center of his head, but she doesn't say anything about it because she thinks it's rude.
He asks her why she's on her own. She tells him her parents are nearby, points to her dad at the counter. The man looks surprised at the word parents and she almost feels bad for him because she thinks it's because he has none. He asks her how she feels about being dipped in salsa sauce and then tries to kidnap her.
Aileth's dad stabs him in the heart from behind and he turns into gold dust. She convinces herself it's a fever dream and goes on with her day like it's nothing.
II. She's eight and there's a one-eyed man in a trench coat that follows her and Percy to school. He looks eerily similar to the man at the diner, Aileth tells Percy she's seen him in a dream before. He sits at the back seat of their school bus and stares through the classroom windows at them. The teachers threaten to call the police and he shows up at Aileth's doorstep with a pan and a knife.
He gets knocked out and thrown into the garbage incinerator by her father. There is gold dust in the hallway the next morning.
Her father explains it to her: Monsters, he calls those creatures— beings that have crawled their way out of the dirt and into the dust-paved streets of New York, straight from Hell and hungry for flesh. He gives her a knife and teaches her how to slit their throats; Aileth kills a hellhound in the elevator and the kid next door asks what the poodle ever did to her.
He forgets about the incident two days later, but she learns that she can see things he can't. Her father calls it the Sight— a curse or a blessing, she doesn't know. The monsters only seem to come for her because she can see them.
III. She's twelve and her math teacher is trying to murder her and her best friend.
It goes as such: they're on a field trip, Nancy Bobofit picks on Grover because she's miserable and attention-seeking, so then water pounces out of the fountain and drags her into it. Mrs. Dodds, in all her infinite wisdom, decides that this is clearly the fault of either Percy or Aileth because Percy is dry even though he should be drenched and Aileth thinks it's funny, and takes them away so she can transform into the stuff of nightmares Disney animators craft their monsters after.
Mrs. Dodds tells them, they've been giving her problems— and when neither Aileth or Percy manage to formulate a proper response, she turns.
Her eyes become a torn open mess— burning embers glittering in the craters of her skull, husks where her eyes were moments ago. Fangs, sharp and pale as bone like the talons stretching from her fingers, tear past the rust of her mouth— a dried crimson that resembles the torn-open stomach of a sacrifice. Her jacket melts into large, leathery wings like that of a bat's. The flesh rips, mangled open. Aileth covers her mouth to stifle a scream.
Transformation complete, Mrs. Dodds kisses her teeth, grinning, and lungs.
It's the worst day of Aileth's life. She lets herself scream this time, dodging as her math teacher reaches out to slash at her— "Are all math teachers like this!?"
"I've never met one that hasn't hated me—" Percy raises his voice in terror, pulling her away from Mrs. Dodds' extended talons, "— but at least none of mine tried to murder me!"
She crawls behind a marble frieze on display. Heart pounding in her chest, she reaches for her father's knife and almost slaps herself across the face when she realizes she'd left it in her backpack outside. "It took a lot of convincing for my parents to put me back in school after that stalker tried to eat me in third grade! I'll be stuck being homeschooled for the rest of eternity!"
"I thought you hated school!" he exclaims, stumbling to the ground.
"Homeschool is worse!"
"How!? At least fucking Bobofit isn't— Oh my God!" Percy yells out as Mrs. Dodds' claws slash through the material of his shirt. He falls forward, unscathed but horribly frightened.
"Mind your language! It's because your sorry excuse of a stepfather keeps asking for spare change every time he loses at poker! And he always loses at poker!"
"We're going to die, and you're warning me about my language?" He shakes his head, both amused and exasperated. "Priorities, Aileth, prioriti— oh, shit, I'm going to die!"
She scowls at him. "You're twelve! Stop swearing!"
Now Aileth is absolutely certain that Mr. Brunner has been out in front of the museum just a minute before. But as Percy opens his mouth— probably to say something about how she had her priorities all messed up— their Latin teacher wheels his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand of all things.
He throws the pen to Percy, who catches it looking equal parts relieved and confused, as if he thinks Mr. Brunner will save him but also doesn't understand why he's holding a pen all of a sudden.
It's a pen, Aileth thinks. It's a fucking pen. What's that supposed to do?
Percy calls to Mr. Brunner for help— "Your colleague's like, trying to kill us! We could use some help here—!" — but then he disappears, and Aileth figures they might as well be a lost cause.
Her best friend continues screaming as he runs, falling off balance and crashing into her when Mrs. Dodds swoops a little too low for comfort. She prays that someone, anyone outside would be able to hear them— there has to be at least one security guard capable of handling demon math teachers, right?
"It's not supposed to end like this! I have to at least give a speech at your funeral, not be the co-star of it!"
"Oh? Well, that's too bad!" Aileth lets out a shout as Mrs. Dodds' claws grip at the hood of her jacket, cursing herself a million times for choosing to wear it today. The hood tears, claws punching through the fabric— she reaches up, desperately, and somehow manages to land a punch square in the jaw.
The teacher screeches, grip loosening, and Aileth scrambles away.
She gets to her feet, frowning at her dirtied knuckles. The air smells like sulfur and her throat is dry from all the screaming she's done, but she opens her mouth to speak regardless.
"D'you reckon I can clean my hands somewhere? They look awfully filthy."
"Priorities!" Percy snaps— and then his eyes narrow at her jacket, hood torn off but still recognizable. "Hey ― isn't that one the one I left at your house the last time I slept over?"
"Priorities!" Aileth retorts quickly, evading the question.
He rolls his eyes, but there is now a small smile on his face (even in the presence of certain death!), and she swears she heard him say at least she likes the jacket.
"Yes, priorities!" Mrs. Dodds screeches. "Die, honey!"
They split off in opposite directions— Aileth chokes in horror, watching Mrs. Dodds lunge dangerously close to Percy. He's running out of energy now, she can see— his breaths are coming in short, legs shaking, and she knows there's only so much time they can spend running around like this.
"Uncap the pen!" Their math teacher is getting closer, diving headfirst and arms extended.
"What?"
"Hurry! Stab her in the eye!"
"I don't think that's going to help," she hears him grumble, but he uncaps the pen anyway.
It suddenly shoots to three feet long, the bronze material it's made of glinting in the scarce sunlight that filters through the dusty windows. It's the sword Mr. Brunner always uses on tournament day— with a double-edged blade, a leather-wrapped grip and a flat hilt riveted with gold studs.
Mrs. Dodds flies straight into the shimmering bronze. It's a clean cut— the sword passes through her body like she's made of water, and she vaporizes on the spot. Gold dust settles on the floor in the aftermath, and there's a kind of Mephistophelian violence that hangs in the air, heavy and cruel like the infernal echo of her voice.
"Um... Percy?"
"Yeah?" He follows her gaze to his hand— where the sword has turned back into a pen without him noticing. (Was it ever a sword?) "Wait... you— you saw the sword, right?"
She nods, shudders. "And the wings."
The building is cold in a way that raises the hairs on the back of his neck. He looks up at the high ceiling, the sun flickering through the skylight above. Somehow it feels like he's being watched.
Percy leans against her as they make their way out, her warmth reminding him that she's still here, still alive. "You think we'll see her again?"
"I hope not," Aileth mutters. "I think I've had enough demon math teachers to last a lifetime."
She feels Percy laugh next to her, and she turns to look at him. "You're okay, right?"
"I'm good," he assures her. It's funny, he tells himself. It's funny that his math teacher is every bit as demonic as he'd made her out to be— literally— and it's funny that he almost died today. (It's not every day this happens to you!) "I still can't believe you stole my jacket without me noticing—"
"I didn't steal it," she protests, cheeks flushing. "You just dropped it off and never took it back!"
"Sure," he sighs, and rolls his eyes at her playfully. "At least it looks good on you. You can keep it."
"Thanks," she says, smiling, and for a moment the chilling evil over their shoulders evaporated, and it was just regular Aileth and Percy— no demon math teachers, magic pen-swords (where did Mr. Brunner buy those?), or mystery monster killers to worry about.
Just the two of them.
(He'd do anything to keep it this way.)
It's raining by the time they get outside.
Grover is sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit's still standing there— soaked from her swim in the fountain and grumbling to her ugly friends.
When they approach the fountain, she turns and says, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butts."
Percy blinks, confused. "Who?"
"Our teacher. Duh!"
Aileth does a double take. "Since when?"
Nancy just rolls her eyes and stalks off, mumbling something about how Aileth could have turned out smarter if she didn't hang out with Percy as much.
Frowning at that, Percy turns to Grover. "Where's Mrs. Dodds?"
"Who?" Grover asks innocently, as if the pre algebra teacher that had just tried to murder them a few minutes ago has never existed. But he pauses first, refusing to look at them, and Aileth wonders if he's messing with them.
"Not funny, man," Percy tells him. "This is serious."
(Thunder roars overhead, another indication of the strange weather of the past few months.)
Aileth blinks, startling in surprise at the sight of Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella reading his book— as if he'd never moved, as if he hadn't given them the pen/sword mere moments ago.
Percy, following her gaze, grabs Aileth by the hand and goes in the direction of their Latin teacher.
Mr. Brunner looks up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson."
Percy hands Mr. Brunner his pen stiffly, confusion written across his face. "Sir," the boy says, "where's Mrs. Dodds?"
Mr. Brunner stares at the two kids blankly. "Who?"
"The other chaperone," Aileth speaks up. It's strange— how everyone is forgetting Mrs. Dodds so quickly. It's as if whatever people with the Sight are immune to is messing with everyone's minds and erasing her from memory. "Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."
He frowns and sits forward, looking mildly concerned. "Miss Morgenstern, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling alright?"
No, she tries to say, but the words don't make it out of her throat— Percy tugs on her hand, and any chance she has to tell Mr. Brunner about her demon math teacher goes out of the window.
Author's Note ♰ coming back an entire year after publishing this fic... WOOHOOO / the flashback part & present day part are written nearly a year apart from each other which is why the writing style is kind of different i'd say? it's a little rusty because i haven't written anything other than divine state— my anakin skywalker fic (WHICH you should definitely check out because it'll make me happy & motivated to write more for my fics) & a little for kingdom come in 2023.
but yeah! let's see when i'll update next!