snakes in the water

Alistair rolled his eyes at Ivy, though he followed her obediently. He couldn’t help it, anyhow. “We’re all different, don’t be delusional,” he coughed out a laugh, listening to Ivy’s explanation. He’d let her continue, just because she was cute when she was earnest. “Okay…I’ll humor you.” Alistair crouched down in front of the shot glasses, watching Ivy as she focused. “Are you sure you’re not…” he trailed off as she moved the water, falling back on his ass as he tried to blink away the sight he’d watched, “Uh – fuck, have you seen…my medication. Yeah. That’s…cool, Ivy. You’re like…a magician or something…right.” It looked too real for someone like him, who’d based his life and story around the fact that there was nothing hidden in the world.

“Don’t humour me asshole, believe me,” Ivy insisted, scowling. A splash of water shot at him, like an imaginary mouth had spat it out, wetting his collar and narrowly missing his face. She had thin patience to begin with, and the feeling that Alistair didn’t believe her was weighing heavily on it. “This is real Alistair, and it’s nothing something you can take a fucking pill for.” Her expression softened as she recognized his genuine confusion. “Not a magician, a…” she trailed off, teeth grit before finishing the sentence, “Witch. Think of it less like Harry Potter and more like, I don’t know, energy manipulation?” The brunette eyed him, gauging how well he was following along, “We’re all different,” she agreed, “But some of us are even more so. Do you think I’m nuts?” 

He looked slightly irritated when she told him to just ask her later. “No, it can’t wait.” His argument was futile, apparently, following Ivy outside of the bar. Alistair shoved his hands into his pockets after trying to move his coat to hide the marks on his neck. He knew they looked bad, but he also figured Ivy would take his word for it. “What kind of question is that? No – No, the videos…the videos are just…like you said. Some weird shit. It’s all about the fucking conspiracy theory in town – they’re making shit up to get people to visit. Money laundering or whatever the mayor is doing.”

“But what if you were right in the first place? What if I was lying before? There is something weird here, and it’s not just something in the fucking water or money laundering. There’s...” She paused, eyes locking on his, begging him wordlessly to understand, to not push her aside and group it all up with insanity, or alcohol soaked thoughts bleeding out into words. “There are people here who are different. I’m different. We can do things that don’t make sense; manipulate elements and objects...” Ivy wouldn’t outright say ‘witch,’ less she be tied to a stake and set ablaze. “Just watch,” she insisted, kneeling to the ground, setting the shot glasses on the pavement. Focusing for a moment, a puddle of water pulled towards one of the glasses, snaking uphill to fill it until the glass overflowed with clear water. “I can do things with water,” Ivy explained, an arc extending in the air filling one glass to the next, the kind of trick that would be impossible to explain as an illusion. 

Alistair frowned, trying to push Ivy’s hand away. “I can tell you exactly what happened, Ivy. I got in a fight and my cat fucking scratched me the other day. That’s what happened.” He watched the woman as she stood up, downing his own drink since she was impossible to argue with anyway. “Actually, Ivy, I wanted to ask you some–” he scowled when she hopped off the stool, rolling his eyes to save his question for later as he followed suit. “Show me what?”

“Fucking cat scratch?” Ivy scoffed, shaking her head. Vampire compulsion was complicated, she knew of spells to remove it, there were a few scrawled in her hidden grimoire, but should they go wrong they could leave him close to braindead. She cut him off, reaching past him and pocketing two shot glasses off the sticky bar and grabbing her jacket off the coat stand. “If it’s not important, ask me later,” the brunette threw out as she pushed open the bar door, the night air biting, feeling more like winter than fall. Rounding the corner, they stood in the alley, the music from the bar nothing more than a subtle thump, like an echo of a heartbeat. “Do you believe in...” She paused, composing the question to try and make it sound less insane, “Do you think there’s something more to this world than what you see? Like those videos, do you think there’s another... force behind them?” Ivy winced as she spoke, the words almost painful to get out.

Alistair only laughed nervously, not entirely convincing enough to pass off as amused. “Yes,” he said finally, looking at Ivy after a moment. “I woke up on a fucking bench. A bench. I had no idea how I got there. At all.” He frowned a little more, looking down at his drink, “No – No. I take schizophrenia pills, Ivy. I don’t – the doctor said I’m off my fucking rocker but with all these gaps, I can’t…I can’t fucking function.”

Ivy swivelled in her seat, facing him entirely, her face twisted in concern. She grasped his chin, tilting his head to the side to eye the dark stains at his throat, the shoddily healed marks that were only half faded from purple to yellow, the puncture wounds looking more like shallow scratches. “Want me to tell you what happened?” She asked, her voice low as she turned back to the bar to finish her drink. It was time to tell him, he was reaching a breaking point-- where it wasn’t protecting him anymore to hide the truth. The witch hopped off her stool, “Come with me, I gotta show you something.” 

@ivypearce

Alistair stared sullenly at the drink in his hand, pulling his attention to the woman beside him. After waking up in the middle of the park the other day with his entire recollection of most of the day gone, it was a miracle he’d actually walked outside his apartment this late in the evening. “You think I’m crazy, Ivy? Or do you just keep me around ‘cause I’m pretty?”

Ivy gave him a sideways look as she worked on flagging over a bartender for much needed refills. “You want a serious answer to that?” The brunette scoffed, “ You said you blacked out an entire day?” Shaking her head, she slid a few crumple bills across the crowded counter, passing off respective water spotted glasses. “Any deep seeded issues I should know about? An uphill battle with psychosis that leads to poor me being  murdered in my bed, and you Lady Macbeth losing it?”

Alistair rolled his eyes, though it didn’t surprise him. He stood up, offering her his hand to help her up as well. “Don’t take too long. I might miss you too much,” he gave a half smile, helping her up before he stifled a yawn. “Maybe I’ll put you in my narrative – met this weird ass girl in Ashbourne, she was kinda cool, I kinda liked her – then launch into the wicker supernatural conspiracy theory and how they’re just taking money from everyone. Then maybe I could convince you to move to New York, yeah? I promise you it’s better than this dump.”

He had to laugh at her words, even if he should find them funny at all. Actually, he despised the entire situation. He could still feel it. That thing crawling inside him and whispering in his ear. Feel his own razor sharp teeth tear the flesh of his lips and his own tongue. The face of pure horror that she wore when she saw it, even if she was trying hard to seem strong and unaffected by it. ❝I hear you handled yourself rather well. Was I not the first creature you exorcised?❞ He joined her, reaching for the bottle of whiskey and serving himself a glass. The truth was that he knew very little about the ring and the little bits and pieces he learned came from a few witches he’d met along the way. But they all had a different interpretation of what it was and what it could do but none of them warned him about possession. ❝This is the reason why I don’t trust witches - no offense.❞ Could there be others? There was a possibility that there were other rings scattered around the earth. ❝There might be. Why, want to start a collection?❞

Alistair gnawed on his bottom lip after a moment, barely registering what she had said since his mind was elsewhere. He could always start a conversation, but it was hell trying to finish one. “Nah. You’re a great neighbor. Otherwise I wouldn’t have told you where my spare key was, right? Or let you barge in at….four thirty in the morning.” He glanced at his watch, realizing he was still dressed in the clothes he’d worn all day. He released Ivy’s hand, running it through his messy hair, “I should really shower and actually….dress for bed or something,” he mumbled, “You can stay if you want, but jesus, I have a headache.”

Alistair felt like a petulant child, staring straight ahead instead of looking at Ivy. His fingers bunched into the fabric of the couch, looking at the muted TV. He glanced over at her when she took his hand, and he intertwined their fingers, “I guess.” He knew she was trying to be realistic, but Alistair felt like he was losing his mind already. New York had been a whirlwind, but Ashbourne was something else. He relied on his medication – gaps in memory that were evading him even as he tried to remember what he had done the night before. Now he had videos, and Alistair was more than ready to start blackmailing people. Starting with the two he’d caught on video. “God forbid. I told you that you should really just move in with me. We can get married; I’ll treat you real nice,” he cooed, leaning towards her to press a sloppy kiss to her cheek.

  “Oh yes, the dead beat boyfriend. Left him under a bus way back. Don’t think he’s using his lungs anymore, I think he was an organ donor.”

  Quipping back at her, there was a small smile to her face as she was mildly enjoying the retaliation. A lot better than what males could generally draw on, that was for sure. From the scent in the air, she was no human and she was certainly tolerating her alcohol just fine.

  “The day I find a man who can tame me, will be the day the blue moon rises and vampires start living again.”

“At least he was good for something, yeah?” Ivy tossed back, her own lips twitching to return the smile, to break the sneer and composure with something friendly, a hint of camaraderie, “Bastard in life, angel in death.” She leaned against the outside wall, tilting her head against the cold brick. “Yeah, pigs’ll fly and all that bullshit, I get it.” The night air was sobering her up, and her fingertips itched for something to hold. “You gotta cig?”

“To put it one way, if you can afford it, I won’t ask many questions. That’s how we stay top rated by the Better Business Bureau.”