#sheldrake

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"Is there any reason that a red bowling ball is in a cage?" Sheldrake asked a uniformed goose attendant in the silent auction. "Kinda funny… what's up with that tall wig it’s got on? Why’s it even wearing a wig at all? It’s… it’s a bowling ball, dude."

The attendant scoffed, turned up his bill to Sheldrake, and promptly walked away. 

Shel raised an eyebrow at the attendant. Though he was used to people ignoring or giving him the cold shoulder, he was simply trying to do business with professionals who’d worked and trained their asses off to cater to eccentric, annoying customers. If there was anything more powerful than the hole in his chest, it was a retail worker faking pleasantries to make a sale. And this auction was technically a big hunter sale’s event. 

He stepped closer to the displayed ball as he rubbed his chin. Sheldrake thought back to the kiss with Grim's wife. He couldn't pass up that opportunity of mistaken identity. Now the next time him and Grim fought, he could cheekily mention that he kissed his wife. It’d make for a great curveball, a nice distraction.

That second, deeper kiss, though... man. Woo boy.

Sheldrake suddenly realized something, and groaned irritably. Light witches and their kissing spells. It was a power boast meant for Grim's dark magic. “Shit,” he said softly to himself as he rubbed the spot on his chest. It made it harder to be stealthy if everyone hated him even more than usual. Which was something, he’d found, could actually happen. He looked up and saw a variety of both heated and cold glares from older paladins in the room. Though security seemed to want to avoid him at all costs. 

Maybe Magica’s cursed kiss would be helpful in the long run. 

The dark red bowling ball shifted on its own, slightly toward Shel when he had cussed. The speckled duck hadn’t noticed at first, but when he started bitching under his breath about one asshole paladin he’d partnered up with in the past, the ball moved again.

"Sounds like you are not too happy with the people here either.” It was a woman’s voice, but Shel knew only he could hear it. Telepathic dialects and all. He stepped closer to the ball. "You don't have to speak out loud to me. Just think the words, and I will hear them."

"Cool. Cool. So… Who are you?" Sheldrake tried to focus, keep the magic ball from “overhearing” his more intrusive thoughts.

"I'm known as the Brunswick witch in your universe. I was misplaced from my own dimension by a spell, and captured by your colleagues," the red bowling ball explained. 

"Nice… two birds with one... ball.” Sheldrake blew a raspberry, ignoring the disgusted look from an old woman passing behind him. “A friend of mine needs your help, and I’m here to return you to your universe.” He recalled his fight with Grimstone on the stairwell-- Yeah, well, he guessed they were still friends.

"How do you plan to get me out of here? There are guards everywhere," the ball inquired.

"Plan is to purchase you fair and square… Annnd if that goes wrong, just yoink you up and run away. I got some backup to help us out," Sheldrake answered. He briefly thought about the kiss with Magica, then the memory of Grim trying to give him mouth to mouth a few missions back. If he could compare the two, they’d--

“Ahem,” the ball interrupted curtly.

"What? Don't people snog and make out in your universe? Don't tell me... when you get laid, is it called a strike?" The duck’s beak moved a little, mouthing half-bits of the words he was thinking.

If the ball could blush, it’d be an even brighter shade of red right now. "Well, I never!" she hissed, scandalized. However, given the curious and shocked reactions from people nearby, she’d been overheard.

"Great," Sheldrake grunted. He remained calm, but mentally assessed how he’d break the bowling ball free and fight his way out of the crowd with the weapons hidden on his person. To his surprise, none of the guards reacted to the outburst. That was a little confusing.

One of the attendants walked right up to Sheldrake. He hadn't even heard him come near before the attendant spoke. 

“This item is not for sale... to you."

Sheldrake gave a curious head tilt. The hole in his chest was itching again but he held back scratching it. Blast that light witch and whatever she had passed on with that kiss. Fuckin’ aliens probably having a feast.

 "Oh? But there’s a silent auction sheet right here. Let me just put my sect's name on there, sooo, technically, they’re buying it. Not me," he said cheekily as he reached for the auction sheet. 

The attendant grabbed his wrist. “I’m sorry. This item is already sold,” he said calmly, although his grip on Shel’s wrist had tightened. 

The speckled duck sighed and ripped his hand out of the hold. He’d done it aggressively, like he was ready to fight, but unfortunately could not given the social circumstances. Aw, beans; he wanted to see this guy’s face turned inside out, too.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Shel grumbled. He acted resigned and defeated, taking a moment to read the room. How exactly would he get the artifact out of here? He glanced back at the window, the fire escape stairwell attached to it.

There was a waiter serving drinks to guests. Probably one of his “partners in crime” disguised, though he couldn’t tell which one. He turned his attention back to the glowering attendant. “Well, if you’re just gonna be a big meanie, I think I’ll go get myself a drink.”

Sheldrake approached the waiter. The distinctive glare he got from the Borzoi left him to conclude it was the wife. He swiftly took a drink off the tray, said, “Sorry about earlier, sweetie. If it’s any consolation, you’re a better kisser than your husband. So where’s our boy at?”

The waiter gave a nudge toward one of the windows. Shel did not see anyone there at the moment. He knocked down his drink and placed the empty glass on the waiter’s tray.

The waiter glared then grumbled, “Well, can you get it? Without any unnecessary conflict?”

“Nope! Unfortunately, I have this effect on people. They always seem to get pretty agitated around me, like I’m some kind of big ol’ pest. Hasn’t your hubby mentioned it?” Sheldrake prodded, the waiter growing tenser by the second.

“Then you leave, and Grim and I will take care of it from here,” the disguised Magica growled. She smiled politely as a man took a drink from the tray and walked off.

“Oh, no, no. No. I’m not leaving you two alone with this,” Shel said with a cool smile.

Magica’s eyes narrowed, her chest tightening and face hot. “Then lay low. We’ll do the fighting, and you just act your normal paladin part,” she seethed, and nodded at another canine waiter--Grimstone. Shel wondered if his curse was causing her to act so bossy and high and mighty, or if the lady was always this aggressive and short. “However… I don’t see a witch locked up in here.”

Sheldrake motioned to the bowling ball a few feet away. “She’s got a weak constitution,” he said. “Prone to the vapors if you say anything naughty.”

Magica squinted at him, as if he were joking--badly. Nonetheless, she discreetly signaled at her husband, then to the ball.

Grimstone made his way over to the displayed bowling ball, examined it. He looked up, and nodded once.

Magica was surprised. 

Sheldrake winked.

“Still… stay out of our way,” the witch ordered.

“We’ll see, we’ll see,” Sheldrake hummed. 

Still disguised, Grim unceremoniously dropped his serving tray, smashed open the display glass, and snatched the bowling ball from its pedestal. In an instant, two guards were there to tackle him, but he leapt up on the plinth and out of the way.

Magica, spotting two more guards running to stop Grim, pushed away from Sheldrake. She threw her tray like a deadly frisbee, knocking one guard into the other. The couple’s plan had been a bit crude but simple: grab the artifact, jump out the window, and run away. The hunters probably predicted something more complicated and dangerous, essentially overestimating the two.

The guards by Grim stood up, reaching for their weapons; they stopped, gobsmacked. The waiter had transformed into a duplicate of the older guard.

The younger looked between the two. “You-- but how--”

“It’s me, Tony! I’m Mike!” the duplicate cried. “He’s the real thief!”

“What?” the older guard yelled. “That’s not--I’m me! I’m Mike!”

In the brief confusion, the duplicate slid away.

The guards that had been temporarily thwarted by a serving tray were getting back on their feet. They glared at Sheldrake, in the direction of where the tray had been thrown. Sheldrake made a playful “uh oh” expression, then stepped to the side to reveal Magica behind him. She was still in disguise, but now holding throwing daggers. 

Gracefully and swiftly, Magica tossed the blades--none of which actually hit the guards. Instead, they pierced the two heads of a monstrous statue behind them. Another distraction to keep the attention off of Grimstone.

Despite the fact the room was full of hunters, none of them moved to help the guards. Surprisingly, Sheldrake was irritated by this. Sure, the plan was to get the item out of there as quickly and easily as possible, but he was still disappointed none of his colleagues actually stepped up and did anything. If he wasn't in on this couple’s crazy plan, Sheldrake would certainly, and most enthusiastically, try to stop them in what he hoped would result in a nice, big fight. 

Now… Well, now that’d just be awkward, so he only took a few more steps away from Magica. 

“Great party we’re having here, huh?” He attempted to converse with the nearest auctioneer. They gasped, appalled by this horrid duck, and swiftly rushed away. “Ah, that's right. Damn white witch magnified the curse. Great. Fuck, shit, and Hell.” No big explosive fight had made him grumpy.

He looked back to the couple. Magica was drawing another guard away from her disguised husband. In a flash, she threw some needle thin daggers at the guard. The spots down the side of the man’s neck and shoulder must have been perfect acupuncture to knock the attacker out.

Grimstone was at the window when another guard attempted to tackle him. He dropped the bowling ball, which made an audible grunt upon impact. Sheldrake kept an eye on the fight but also took another drink off a waiter’s tray. He spoke loudly, not really directed toward anyone specific in the room, “So we’re all really just going to stand here and watch the rent-a-hunters fight?” 

Finally someone that wasn’t a guard grabbed Magica from behind. Still in her Borzoi disguise she slipped out of the hold, whipped around and stabbed the attack in the shoulder with one of her large throwing needles. Sheldrake winched and mouthed an “ou”. It wasn’t out of sympathy, but more mocking. 

Another hunter that had been just watching managed to close one of the shutters on the large window in an attempt to block Grimstone’s escape. It was already clear the demonic duck wasn’t one of the real guards. This became more obvious when Grimstone blasted a fireball at the now closed window. 

A young hunter made an attempt to toss a bottle of holy water at the demonic duckll. Grimstone had not noticed the bottle coming at him. Magica, however, had seen it. Grim’s disguise faded as Sheldrake came out of the crowd to catch the bottle. He held his drink in his free hand, which he unceremoniously smashed in a nearby paladin’s face. 

“Turns out you did need some help, hm, babe?” Sheldrake teased as he backed up toward Grimstone. As an older hunter ran over, Sheldrake made sure to trip and kick him out of the way. 

"I can't believe this is the paladin you grinded on in Austria," Magica snapped, blasting a ray of light at a pair of men attempting to intervene.

"Wow, you weren’t lying when you said you tell her everything. She’s got your balls in a vice grip," Sheldrake said to Grim before backhandedly punching an attacker in the face. He smirked at Magica. "He's certainly a keeper!"

“Most of the time,” she quipped, kicking and shoving a guard over a table--and right out the window. “I do hope that wasn’t a friend of yours.”

“Ah, I don’t have any friends here. No love lost. Maybe a friend and a half, if I generously count you guys,” Shel said as he grabbed a hunter by the head. The hunter was surprised, not expecting such betrayal--nor Shel to knee him in the chin. Shel’s grin was wide and manic; he looked back at Magica, guffawed, “I didn't realize you had to swap spit with your husband to give him a power boost!” 

“Excuse me,” Grimstone huffed from nearby. He picked up a few artifacts, shook and tossed them in the air. That caught some of their attackers’ attention.

“It was an accident!” Magica sputtered out before she could be accused of anything. “I thought he was you in my glamor spell!”

“Excuse me?” Grimstone repeated, this time genuinely confused. Magica made an irritated grunt before throwing a needle knife at a hunter that was attempting to pick up the fallen bowling ball.

“Eyes on the prize, you two, or I’ll turn this mission around,” Sheldrake lectured, teasing, “We’ll deal with any jealousy and drama later. Time to get that Brunswitch.” 

Magica was still annoyed but gave a nod. She wormed around a hunter trying to grab her, snatching up the bowling ball. Grimstone and Sheldrake both played defense, keeping all would-be attackers off of her. 

“Your wife is a slightly better kisser than you,” Sheldrake said to Grim as he pulled out one of his guns, firing on the burning window. He shot a hole clean through the center. 

Magica, without being told, made her way out. 

Sheldrake shot at other hunters in the room running at them. “Like sittin’ ducks!”

Grimstone grabbed the back of his rescuer’s coat, dragging him to the window. “Eyes on the prize, remember?!” he sniped.

“Hey, if I drink that holy water, does that mean we can’t make out for like forty-eight hours?” Sheldrake asked, allowing himself to be tugged along. 

Grimstone laughed, tossing the paladin out the window before following him. They landed on a metal fire escape, next to a tall mirror leaning against the stairs. Grim grabbed Shel’s hand hard, and jumped into the mirror as if it were liquid. 

They both tumbled out a second mirror in Grimstone and Magica’s barn, rolling into a pile of hay. 

Magica was standing by the mirror, hay stuck in her clothing and hair. “Well, our new friend has agreed to help change back the children. I’m taking her to the school. And then we’re going to talk about your behavior,” Magica explained, directing her last comment at Sheldrake.

“Oh ho, you think I’m still going to be here when you get back? I guess that depends how busy your hubby keeps me,” Shel replied, smirking. 

Both Magica and the bowling ball scoffed. 

Grimstone stood from the haystack as Magica went into the mirror with the ball to their next location. 

Once Sheldrake got up, Grimstone went into lecture mode.  

“What were you thinking!? You could have gotten yourself in trouble with the other paladins. I need you for inside information. You could be their next big target now!” Grim complained, more like an overbearing mother than an agitated, powerful demon. 

Shel opened his bill to make a sassy comment, to explain himself, but stopped to consider what Grimstone had said. “What do you mean *could have*? I just--” Shel caught a glimpse of his reflection in a nearby window. An… everyday Joe, green-headed mallard stared back at him. He laughed. “Damn, your lady is good.”

“It will fade in an hour or so. Next time we run into each other on a mission, let me handle the fighting,” Grim said in his usual stern, reprimanding tone.

"Sooooo, you owe me now. I did you a favor." Sheldrake wore a shit-eating grin as he rocked back and forth on his heels.

"What do you want, Agent Netta?" Grimstone attempted to sound cold, detached.

"Gasp! Grim, you wound me! After all we have been through. I like it when you call me Shelly instead. Preferably breathlessly," the paladin's smirk widened. 

The demonic duck rolled his eyes. "I'm not without honour. I do owe you a favor, but within reason. You know my boundaries when interfering with the dealings of mortals," Grimstone returned stoically.

Sheldrake glanced around a moment as if looking for something.

"What is it? Is someone here?" Grimstone couldn’t help but look around, too.

"Nah, just checking for hidden cameras for whatever warlock reality show you just made that dramatic speech for," Sheldrake teased. Grimstone sighed, seemingly annoyed, but Shel saw a hint of an amused smirk at the corner of the demon duck's beak. Even Grim was aware he was spouting shit. 

Grimstone crossed his arms. "What did you need, Sheldrake?" His shoulders relaxed as he spoke. As much as he hated to admit it, he did trust this damn paladin.

Sheldrake explained. "There's an old paladin at that hunter convention. I worked with him once, and he shot several children in the back of the head during a mission. Seemed like something he did a lot. Usually we gotta call back-up when we find kids on the scene. Instead this dickcheese went in with guns blazing like it was any other big scary shoot ‘em up monster battle. We didn't even know if the kids were victims or transgressors." 

Sheldrake stepped closer to Grim and put his hand on his arm. He gave it a light squeeze. He knew Grim just ate up small touches like these. "But, see. Remember when I was gone for several months? This bastard had knocked me out when I tried to stop him. We held a trial to get him removed, but all his friends were on the jury. Also, I mean, what’s *my* word against--well, *anyone* else’s? I couldn't hang out with you during the case because he had people tailing me to dig up dirt since I was the only witness. I couldn't even feed right with all that going on--"

"I don't need to know anymore. Which one is he?" Grimstone asked.

"Oh, I'll bring him out to you. But you have to make him suffer slowly." Sheldrake's eyes shimmered like a kid opening gifts on Christmas morning.