Clay Tuesday Part 3

Act III: White Crow

The facts were these: The boys, now with the inclusion of the sole female, were back to where they had been the Wednesday a few days prior. They waited behind The Flaming Pickle, the boys impatiently and Rachel rather calmly. Within moments Wallace was to walk briskly into the alley to meet them; the trio may have caught him in his lie, but they morally could not let Yeates have his way with the murderous Wallace. They planned on dealing with him after Yeates. When Wallace did arrive, he was in a full sprint with Yeates in pursuit

Yeates, his face half-melted off, his clothes torn to rags, hunched slightly over and with claws in place of fingers hopped like a frog from building to building chasing after Wallace. Demonic seagull-like wings sprouted from the phantom’s back. His jaw unhinged, his mouth grew larger, and the teeth became hair-raisingly visible. Both eyes were melted over; his face looked like pale wax.

Wallace spun around, his hammer appearing in hand, and aimed for the demonic phantom but got knocked into the wall when the phantom’s gigantic claw met his body leaving rips along his clothes and scratched that bled profusely.

Adam and Kristjan held open their tiny notebooks, each pressing a hand against a wall. Magical circles in a pastel glow cropped up near their hands like graffiti, sprouting forth wires that sought to entangle to demonic Yeates, but his teeth and claws severed the bindings with little effort. A heavy energy shot through the alleyway, the source of which came from Yeates’ negativity, making it hard for the living to breathe. Yeates focused that force in his wings, creating a whirlwind that thrust Adam and Kristjan into the side of the building.

Rachel gazed at the phantom, standing un-phased in the midst of action. Her sweet smile held something deadly behind it, an untold story waiting to be heard. Her eyes shifted to the three large flowers growing on the demon’s arms.

“Let me tell you a little something about why you should be careful,” she started, taking carefully calculated steps towards Yeates. Yeates, having lost sense of being human, charged at her, a gut wrenching inhuman roar echoing from his mouth. “First, I’m poisonous to ghosts. Second, you hurt my brother. Never hurt my brother.”

Little cerulean lights flickered into existence around Rachel; it was her most basic ability, like Adam’s flowers, or Kristjan’s crows. Dozens of little fireflies surrounded Yeates, stopping and burning him. Smoke rose from his body, searing him and forcing more growls and roars to erupt from him. The phantom’s struggle weakened him, keeping him from fighting off the effects of the flowers, which began to grow and connect to each other. In seconds more spider lilies sprouted from vines that encased the entire upper left side of Yeates.

The phantom was unable to smack the fireflies away. In retaliation he shot pressure at Rachel, knocking her down but Kristjan was there to take her place. Or more precisely, his white crows which emerged from his body were.

“You asked about these back at the hospital. If you had dug deeper into my mind, you would know that even before I became a victim of happenstance my family called me Kristjan the Scarecrow.” The abnormally large birds flapped their wings, and Yeates burst into feathers. The phantom, disoriented, reformed seconds later in a different location only to be consumed by more of the fireflies he so agonizingly tried to swat away. “Phillip Darwin Yeates, go to hell.”

Yeates froze in a striking position, mouth wide open ready to eat any of the fireflies or even bite off his covered arm. A large magic circle that looked vaguely like a clock formed in a soft blue light, ticking down the time until Yeates would be free again. Yet before the flowers could finish devouring him, before the fireflies could singe him, or even before the crows could peck away at him until he was nothing, Wallace had found his own way to the side of the white clad menace. Standing by the phantom, Wallace’s fingers stroked what little hair was left on his victim’s head, his lips drawing near to Yeates’ ear. Mockingly, he whispered “You’ll be useful after all, mon cher. I’ve always wanted Psychic powers.”

Wallace had activated a spell, dark symbols crawling across his skin. Not so delicately, and ever so un-gently, Wallace brought his mouth to the neck of his victim. The flowers wilted away. Yeates morphed back to his original form then vanished all together into Wallace’s open mouth. The magic circle broke. The symbols left Wallace’s skin, and he stood victorious for all to see. With a crazed smile he lifted his hand and gave a simple wave. Then he vanished.

 Kristjan sat discontent on the creepy swing in front of the house. It had only been a day, but already the house was somewhere new and far away from Strawberry Fields. Back and forth the man from the in-between swung until Rachel’s hand fell on his shoulder and Kristjan came to a stop. He looked over his shoulder at the woman and at Adam who stood sheepishly with his arms folded across his chest. Kristjan gave a gentle, unpracticed smile.

“It’s okay, Kristjan. Sometimes we fall down.” Rachel said softly, rubbing his back. Kristjan let those words sink in; the words were, after all, important. There was an unspoken bond that had grown between the three inhabitants of the house due to the events of their last case. They had experienced failure together, and forged something strong through the trial.

Kristjan allowed himself to believe what Rachel had said.  He responded, “I know,” then slid off the swing, allowing her to get on. He pushed her while Adam sat against the tree reading one of the old grimoires from the study, looking up every so often to fend off Kristjan and Rachel’s teasing.

When it got dark the fireflies danced to their words underneath the waning moon and the trio laughed together, and together they lived and worked case after case, continuing their adventures in the ebb and flow of the ever-evolving world of the stunningly strange and supernatural. There was still so much more for them to do.