#corpse mention

"What? No! N-no, I'm fine, I promise." His hands don't come down.

She stares at him. Does not lower her weapon. Tries to find any reason not to believe him. Knows her brother can be impulsive and rash, but that he wouldn't do anything to put her in danger. Not on purpose. Relaxes just a little, still too aware of the thing in the bathroom. "You're sure?"

"Y-yeah. Yeah, I'm sure." He drops his arms. His eyes dart towards the door. It doesn't make sense.

"Wait, Buck, you knew?"

"Uh," he says, which might as well be yes.

"And you let it live?" she hisses. "I can't believe you would do something so stupid!"

Buck gives her his best kicked puppy impression, which is remarkably effective for someone as big and tall as he is. Behind the door, there is the sound of something dropping into the tub. Something meaty and squelching, like an arm. More movement. She turns her back on her brother's wide blue eyes and raises her weapon again.

"No, Maddie, wait!"

He grabs her from behind and though her first instinct is to fight back, to struggle, he's been stronger than her for a lot of years now and he drags her bodily back towards the stairs.

"Maddie, Maddie, please," he pleads. He's trying not to hurt her, she can tell, but panic still surges in her chest. "I can explain, okay? P-please, let me explain."

The bathroom door creaks open and she locks eyes with the corpse. She lets Buck lead her down the stairs, away from it.

Downstairs, she sits on the couch, back to the wall. She accepts Buck's offer of tea.

"Buck," she says. gaze catching on the staircase again. It hasn't followed them down. Yet. "What's going on?"

Buck sits across from her, like he has nothing to fear from the thing upstairs.

"He— he saved me, Maddie," he says, and he sounds so genuine, like he fully believes what he's saying. "He's different."

Maddie thinks of Howie, who hadn't wanted her to make the trip even though things had quieted down in the past months. Thinks of Jee-yun, waiting for her at home. Looks at her brother, alone in his empty house.

"Okay," she says softly. "Tell me about him."

-

He went straight for the mirror, intent on making sure Frazie’s last three pinecones hadn’t completely ruined his pompadour. A quick check confirmed that Frazie’s aim was on the mark; his pompadour was just fine. Persephone mewed at him from where she was lounging on a shelf, one paw lazily batting at the air. Dion greeted her, giving her chin a little scratch before he turned to leave—

Skittery legs creeping along the wood, silently carrying a hellish pair of pincers strong enough to rend flesh and tear off ears. Beady eyes casting an evil gaze upon him, skittering, scurrying, lurking and lunging right for him—

Dion tumbled out of the caravan with a scream so loud that he almost missed the sound of Raz and Frazie’s snickering. The ghost of his grandfather turned towards the disturbance, looking at Dion in concern while he hopped about trying to brush off imagined terrors clinging to his sleeves.

Earwigs! Why did it have to be earwigs?!

“I think that might be the best one we’ve heard yet.” Frazie snickered, drawing Dion’s ire.

“Ehhh, I’d rate that scream at a seven out of ten.” Raz opined, wiggling his hand.

“I’ll get you back for this.” Dion growled, mustering his best glare. It was, of course, completely ineffective against his unrepentant siblings, who only giggled harder.

“Hey, Dee, there’s still one on your shoulder.” Frazie pointed, barely hiding her grin behind her hand. Dion flipped her off, then flipped away for good measure.

“Ты собираешься отомстить?” Lazarus asked, following after Dion with a flip of his own. Neither of Dion’s grandparents spoke English well, if at all—they were both dead, and the dead don’t change. At least it gave Dion a good reason to practice his Grulovian.

Dion waited a moment, until he was sure he was far enough away that Raz wouldn’t hear him—Frazie knew about the ghosts, but Raz didn’t and until things stopped being weird between them Dion didn’t know how to tell him—before he spoke.

“Я хочу.” He griped, grabbing the pins to practice juggling. “но мне это ни за что не сойдет с рук.” Younger siblings had all the luck. Strange unexplainable powers that let them cheat at chores, big innocent eyes to convince their parents that no, they totally didn’t put a frog in Dion’s bedroll, who would ever do such a thing? And worst of all, if Dion tried to retaliate in kind, then suddenly he was “setting a bad example” and “not acting his age.” Frazie was barely a year younger than him!

Lazarus raised an eyebrow. Dion shrugged. He didn’t actually… know his grandparents very well. Since he kind of ignored them for years. And didn’t realize they were his grandparents instead of just two more Deluge victims following his Nona around. They didn’t seem to hold Dion’s incredible (and humiliating) feat of ignorance against him, but Dion wouldn’t be surprised if they were at least a little disappointed in him. He was certainly disappointed in himself.

“Кроме того,” Dion said, “Pooter не занимался своими делами.” He smirked, “Он получит свое.” Raz had those freaky mind powers to cheat at his chores, so really, it would be his own fault for skipping them. Their mother may have lightened his workload in light of recent events, but Raz still had chores that he was totally aware of and totally neglecting. All Dion had to do was sit back and wait.

“Справедливо.” Lazarus shrugged. Dion stopped juggling and caught the pins—something else had caught his attention. Someone else, who could use a good punch to the face. Dion glared across the campgrounds at—well, not at his Nona, who deserved nothing of the sort, but at the man standing next to her, talking in quiet tones.

Ford Cruller.

+=+=+=+=+

Dion flipped her and Raz off before flipping away, towards the edge of camp where he could practice juggling.

Frazie’s eyes rolled. Her older brother had it so easy. Their parents adored him and thought that good ol’ responsible Dion could do no wrong—and even when they did, they weren’t half as hard on him as they’d be on Frazie. Dion had never had to worry about how he’d be treated if he let his powers slip—and it wasn’t like anyone else would believe that he could see ghosts, anyway. Way harder to let slip than levitation and telekinesis.

So it was basically Frazie’s job to humble her brother, because who else would? He had an ego five miles too wide and the attitude to match; Frazie was simply rebalancing the scales. And it wasn’t like earwigs were actually harmful.

“Thank you, little demons.” Raz said to the earwigs in question, after taking them back out of the caravan. If he left one or two to go after any other bugs that might be in there, well, who was Frazie to judge? It’d keep Dion on his toes. And really, of all the things that he could be scared of—earwigs? They weren’t even that scary. Scorpions, on the other hand…

Eugh. Frazie shuddered just thinking about them.

“I think Percy got one of them.” Raz said, dropping the earwigs back into the soil. He and Frazie had wandered away from their family’s camp to do this, putting Dion nicely out of sight.

“Probably.” Frazie agreed. “Think it’ll end up in Dion’s tent later?” Persephone had a habit of bringing her “kills”—if broken pinecones, wet leaves, and spiders counted as kills—to either Dion’s tent or the caravan. The family tried not to let her wander outside of camp for a reason—they didn’t want a repeat of the garter snake incident. Dion’s scream had been loud enough to wake the dead, and Mirtala had burst into tears at the sight of the dead snake.

“Is it bad that I kind of really hope so?” Raz asked, flipping onto a levitation ball and balancing on his hands. He rolled it around, his thoughts nudging Frazie to try doing the same. Frazie settled for snagging a nearby pinecone and tossing it without touching it. Her levitation was… still a work in progress. She was years out of practice. Telekinesis or whatever it was called was easy.

“Ehhhh.” Frazie grimaced. “You know Dee’d make a huge ordeal out of it.” On the one hand, it’d be funny. On the other, Dion’s reaction would be loud.

“I dunno, it might be worth it.” Raz suggested. “Since he’s still got a stick up his ass about psychics.”

“He’s been getting better.” Frazie pointed out. Not by a lot, but still. That it was probably mostly because of—what was her name, Gisu?—him having a crush on some girl irked her, but—well. Frazie supposed she shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. She’d just have to keep Dion from making an ass of himself by viciously correcting him. He’d learn.

Raz frowned, flipping up off of his brain ball to a branch above. “It doesn’t seem like it to me.” He muttered.

Frazie flipped up onto the branch. “Well that’s ‘cause you’re annoying, Poots.” At Raz’ annoyed huff, her smirk dropped. Do you need me to go bean him in the head with more pinecones?

Raz sighed. Nah, I’m just frustrated. It feels like there’s something he’s not telling me.

Frazie snorted. Tell me something I don’t know. She had an idea of what it was that Dion would be hiding, but she didn’t mention it to Raz. She wasn’t even sure if Raz believed in ghosts to begin with. “Wanna race me to the top of the cliff?” She proposed, as much for the fun of it as a distraction.

Raz’ eyes narrowed in suspicion before he shrugged, deciding to go along with the change in subject. “Sure. So long as you’re okay with losing.”

“Please!” Frazie crowed, “You’ll be eating my dust the whole way up!”

Raz scoffed, snarky reply on his tongue—

A loud shout echoed out from the camp. Dion’s voice. It sounded angry.

Raz and Frazie glanced at each other. A single silent conversation later, and they made their way back to camp to see what was going on.

+=+=+=+=+

“You.” Dion marched over to where Cruller was standing, intent on—he wasn’t even sure. Lazarus was a cool presence at his back, warding off the angrier ghosts that surrounded his Nona.

Ever since Nona had settled down in the Gulch, the number of ghosts that lingered around the caravan had dropped sharply. Dion had been getting used to the lack of chill—but some spirits still lingered. His grandparents were just two of the caravan’s regulars that nobody else in his family could see.

Of course, since the Deluge victims that followed Nona were tied to her, her visiting meant they were back. Dion had long learned to ignore their taunts and jeers—and he had no trouble doing so now, when he had only one focus in his mind: Ford Cruller’s criminally underpunched face.

“You have some nerve.” Dion grit out, nails digging into his palms. This got Cruller’s attention, his head whipping around at the sound of Dion’s voice.

He looked guilty. Good. He should feel guilty, for everything he had done.

“You’ve got a lot to answer for.” Dion snarled. The little girl from the forest flashed through his mind, and his anger jumped up another notch.

“I’m well aware—” Ford defended, at the same time as Nona’s greeting of “Dionysus.”

“Oh, you’re aware?! Fantastic!” Dion’s fists quivered with rage. “Then explain the fucking bodies!”

“The—the what.” Ford stared blankly. Dion wanted to punch him.

“Uh, the bodies? In the ditch out in the woods? The ditch that your fortune teller bullshit leads people to?” The ditch that Dion spent a whole night trapped in, until he could convince the ghosts to stop dragging him back down. And in the forest he hadn’t gotten out of until he had gotten help from one of the ghosts. If it were anyone else, Dion didn’t doubt they’d have been stuck there. Unless they were also psychic.

Ford blinked. Dion’s anger went up another notch.

“Crulley.” Nona admonished, sounding aghast.

“Hmm.” Cruller’s hand rested on his chin as he contemplated. “I guess the wards might have, ah, degraded over time with nobody to maintain them.” He sounded pained. Not nearly guilty enough. “It must have slipped my mind to check on them, with the way it was shattered.” And hadn’t that been Cruller’s own fault?

“Ударь его.” Marona urged, appearing out of seemingly nowhere. “Ударь его по лицу.” Dion certainly wanted to. He could probably break Cruller’s nose real nicely. But would it really be worth it?

…probably not.

“Ударь его.” Lazarus repeated, cold hand on Dion’s shoulder. “Марона права. Ударь его по лицу.”

“And you’re saying people have already died from this?” Cruller asked, completely oblivious to Dion’s grandparents urging Dion to hit him.

“Bodies.” Dion emphasized, through grit teeth. “In the ditch.” His whole body was trembling with a barely-contained rage. He wanted to grab Cruller by the collar and shake him. He wanted to punch his stupid face. He already didn’t like Cruller, but every time he blinked he could see the girl whose name he never got, whose name might never be remembered, and all because of this pathetic old prick standing before him—

Nona whacked her walking stick against Cruller’s head. “Well? What are you going to do about it?” She asked, bringing some real sense to the conversation. At least Dion could rely on his Nona to be sensible.

Cruller wilted. He raised a hand to his temple, concentrating. After a moment, “Alright, where’s the ditch?”

Dion shot him a withering look. Cruller wanted him to go back to the death ditch? Ugh, fine, whatever. He nudged Lazarus, and muttered, “Как вы ожидаете, что я найду тела?” His Nona gave him a strange look for his wording—or maybe his pronunciation was off and she was judging him. But Lazarus and Marona got the message, Lazarus slipping away while Dion turned towards the forest.

“What am I, your dead body detector? Find them yourself.” Of course, Dion didn’t trust Cruller one whit, so he wasn’t going to just let the man wander off on his own. He’d bring Cruller to that ditch, even if he needed help to do it again. He didn’t feel up to wandering aimlessly until he stumbled on the ditch by accident. Not again.

Cruller sent Dion a strange look—what, didn’t he know that Dion was great at complaining? Nona simply chuckled, waving them off with a simple “be back before dark!”

Lazarus stood at the edge of the trees, two unfamiliar ghosts at either side of him. Unfamiliar, but not unrecognizable—Dion had met them barely a day prior, after all.