He took his time marching through the house, taking in the papers and ingredients and components littering the house. Leif, one of the bills left on top of the cupboard in the foyer said and Dantalion imprinted the name to his memory.
He had good few hours for grave robbing, way more time than he actually needed, but he felt like staying to snoop around might wear out Leif’s hospitality.
Besides, with the whole world suddenly open to him, why would he want to stay in the old witch’s stuffy and dusty house? At least Finn’s room had been comfortable and his bed soft.
Aside from the overwhelming and oppressing smell from the mint plant, of course.
Opening the door and escaping to the dark streets, he allowed a glamour to wash over him.
As it was, there were not a lot of people out and about it the quiet neighborhood aside from few stragglers heading to or from the bus stops littering the streets. It was Friday, Dantalion remembered from the calendar in Leif’s apartment.
He had spent many good nights with people looking for a fun time and ready to pay for it, sometimes with money, other times with softly whispered secrets in the black of the night. Dantalion preferred the latter type over the former, but he’d take either to linger outside hell.
It was a calm night, which made it all the more easier for him to slip to the graveyard. Leif’s instructions were meticulous and easy to follow. The graves he visited were unnamed and the blessings they had once received were old and faded. But still not gone, Dantalion noted with a deep sigh, which meant that his magic would not be able to pierce it entirely. He wished he could call for some imps or lesser demons to do the digging for him, but since it was not an option, he would just have to do it himself.
He had never minded getting his hands dirty, but having mud and dirt under his nails was excruciating.
When he heard sounds of someone entering the graveyard, he cast a simple glamour over the grave he was digging into and watched with idle curiosity as the pair of teenagers walked past him. One of them had a plastic cup in his hands, but even the girl smelled mildly of alcohol. From their words, he could decree they had come from a party and the guy was desperately trying to impress the girl.
This graveyard was hardly a place for that, Dantalion mused idly to himself. But since the two of them had wandered here, it must have meant the party was not far.
Perhaps Dantalion would not have to deprive himself from all the entertainment after all.
The thought gave him new found motivation to dig through the ground. The task did not take him long - while the blessed ground repelled his magic, it did not prevent him from manifesting more of his demonic presence to aid him physically.
The whole ordeal took him less than two hours.
Satisfied with the results, he took a few minutes to store the items carefully in the bag he’d taken from Leif’s place. Then he took a few more minutes to get rid of the dirt and mud in his person, although his claws would have to wait until he’d eventually end up back in his little house.
When he was satisfied with the result, he flicked a glamour on top of the bag as well, making it more stylish and look less like it had bones inside it. And finally, he started his way to where the two teenagers had come from, keeping his ears open for sounds of music and chatter, trying to catch on to the smell of alcohol.
Curiously enough, it was neither of the two that caught his attention. It was the faint smell in the air, the slight pull in his being that told him of the presence of something familiar. Something that had pulled him to this realm twice now. A person.
A little witch.
His curiosity perked, he hastened his steps towards the pull. He did not think he was near Finn’s home, so what was the little witch doing here?
There was only one way to find out. He adjusted his direction towards the pull and sure enough, the music and laughter and smell of alcohol and perfumes didn’t take long to drift down to him. Belatedly he considered the fact that Finn had indeed been young. Seventeen, deducing from things he had written in the grimoire he had given to Dantalion.
So around the age as everyone else in the party getting drunk and laughing and dancing and chatting. For the first time he wondered about the life the little witch had outside his bedroom. Did he have friends? Did he go to school? Was he learning magic to show them as party tricks at the party?
He told himself it was idle curiosity he could use to negotiate a deal with Finn the next time he would summon Dantalion. That and his general curiosity towards humans. He didn’t get to see glimpses of witches outside their workspaces often: most were like Leif. Dantalion would be summoned to do a task and then he’d return to hell once it was done.
One day he’d be able to stay, he told himself. Then his attention was drawn to a small commotion by the street, a few teenagers having gathered around a lamp post, one of them leaning against it rather heavily.
He’s about to throw up, Dantalion observed. Then he took notice of the familiar, skinny form, black clothes and ear piercings and blinked.
Finn was about to throw up, he corrected himself. Directing his steps towards the commotion, he heard one of them offering hand to Finn and to walk him home.
“‘m good,” Finn responded, heavy slur to his voice. “J’st need a sec.” One of the guys shook his head and turned to his friend, cocking an eyebrow.
“Marcus lives the same way, right?” he asked. Dantalion sped his steps slightly.
“Finn?” he called out, tilting his head as if not sure he was seeing correctly. Finn was the last one to look up at him, eyes unfocused.
Poor little witch, Dantalion mused. Any demon who might have come across him like this would have been more than happy to take advantage of his position.
“Who’re you?” One of the people gathered asked, taking half a step in front of Finn. Dantalion approved the protective gesture as much as he found it cute.
“A frequent customer to their store,” he laughed briefly, relaxed. “I’m actually headed that way, if you need someone to walk you home?” He directed the last part to Finn and held back a smile at the way Finn narrowed his eyes at him as if trying to place his face.
“Customer?” He echoed and Dantalion nodded, smiling.
“Dan. I dropped by for some odd ingredients the other day,” he lied smoothly and took a step closer when Finn’s friends faltered in their wariness.
“Huh,” he blinked, his eyes looking over Dantalion, but not focusing on anything, “‘kay then.” It was not exactly an explicitly worded consent, but it was good enough for his friends to let Dantalion pass and grab Finn’s arm to help him straighten up.
“Then homewards bound we be,” he stated, nodding at the few people gathered around and starting to escort Finn to the direction he was fairly sure his house was in.
“What did you say you bought from mom?” Finn murmured a few steps later, tugging on his arm to signal that he was good to walk on his own. Dantalion did not think he’d be capable of walking a straight line, but he seemed to stay on his feet at least.
“I think my visit cost you some specially made chalks, animal skull or two and sharing a memory with me,” he explained truthfully.
“Good memory at least?” Finn asked. As they walked, his eyes started to look just a bit clearer, some of the sway leaving his steps.
“Unburdening, I would say,” Dantalion corrected. He could see Finn could not fully grasp his words, but he nodded anyway, perhaps a few too many times. It was almost cute.
“I admit I wasn’t expecting to find a little witchling in such a mundane party as this one though,” he mused thoughtfully when the silence stretched a bit longer. “I thought witches your age would be more into rituals, naked dances in moonlight and orgies.” He watched Finn’s reaction keenly. He took a moment to be able to comprehend the words, before he gave an almost startled look at Dantalion, the redness from the alcohol spreading father over his face.
So even while drunk, Finn wasn’t immune to teasing.
“Mom would have a heart attack,” he managed to say, stumbling over the words, before narrowing his eyes at Dantalion. “That what you do? You don’t look much older.” Dantalion grinned at him, allowing his glamour to flicker just the slightest bit to flash his fangs at Finn. The little witch blinked, gaze falling to Dantalion’s lips and lingering there perhaps a bit longer than was polite.
Not that Dantalion minded.
“Sure, every now and then,” he said honestly, “I’ll invite you next time, if you’re interested.” Finn was saved from responding by a car speeding at the sight of the two of them about to reach the crossing over the road. Dantalion pulled Finn back where he was stepping on to the road and glared heatedly after the car.
The following morning, the driver would find his windshield covered in bird droppings.
“I feel sick,” Finn muttered at the sudden tug on his arm and Dantalion turned to blink at him, taking in the nausea evident on his face and slightly hunched form.
“Deep breaths,” Dantalion told him, patting him gently on the back. Idly he considered turning to the left instead of right from the next turn, where Finn’s home would be. Returning to Leif’s house with Finn and once Leif would dismiss him, taking Finn to hell with him. In this condition, the little witch would likely not protest overly much. He barely seemed aware of his current surroundings.
And what then? Dantalion wondered. Finn would no doubt keep him entertained in his little house for a while. A vibrant token of the mortal world, delightful personality to keep him company.
And it wasn’t like Finn would have to be unhappy. Dantalion could teach him magic, and other things he didn’t have experience in yet. There wouldn’t be the need for more deals or contracts, no restrictions in their interactions.
Aside from the other demons, who would no doubt be happy to tear Finn and his soul apart or offer him to a Greater Demon in hopes of a higher position. Dantalion could keep his scent hidden for as long as he remained in his house, but he doubted Finn would be happy with that and Dantalion would not always be able to remain there.
And feeling Finn clutching tightly to his arm as he tried to hold back the nausea, remembering the wild, unrestrained way he had smiled under the effects of alcohol, Dantalion found the thought of taking him away less appealing. This Finn, vibrant and lively and not holding himself back was very different from the one he had seen in his tiny room. Unguarded and open.
Was it Dantalion or the house that held him back when he summoned Dantalion?
He did not want to take the risk that it was him. And even if it was the house and small, contained space, hell would not make a difference there. It was not a place for mortals. It was not even a place for Dantalion.
He took the turn to right.
It took a while for Finn to release his death grip on Dantalion’s arm and Dantalion wondered if he had yet realized he did not feel the leather jacket covering his arm, but instead Dantalion’s skin. It didn’t seem to be the case. As they approached Finn’s house, his eyes grew more clear, steps more certain.
“Mom’s gonna be mad,” he said when they reached the correct block, “it’s the first time I went to a party. Maybe she’s asleep.” Even through the slight slur, it was evident that even he thought he was deluding himself. Dantalion huffed a short laugh. The nervousness was cute to him. He imagined going to his predecessors to explain he’d slipped to the mortal realm or had a bit of alcohol.
He’d either get congratulated or burnt for wasting their time.
“Are you scared?” Dantalion asked him idly, not hiding the amusement in his voice. Finn straightened his back and shot a wounded glare at Dantalion.
“Obviously not,” he stated firmly. The effect was slightly ruined by him stepping on his open shoelace and stumbling. He likely would have fallen had Dantalion not caught him.
“Well, if you wanted to get in unnoticed, maybe you should climb through the window,” he suggested helpfully. Finn looked at him thoughtfully as if trying to determine if he was joking, before turning his eyes towards the house they were slowly approaching.
“Yeah,” he agreed slowly. Dantalion felt slightly gleeful at seeing Finn rushing his steps, apparently taken by the new challenge presented to him. Following after him, Dantalion stayed behind and hid himself in the shadows when they reached his house. With a priest and a witch in the house, he did not want to risk being spotted and ruin his perfectly nice night. Getting exorcized would suck, more so if it happened before he finished his task.
So he watched from the street as Finn wandered around the house once, before seemingly spotting his window and starting to look at the walls appraisingly. He seemed to have already forgotten Dantalion’s presence as he started looking for hand holds and places to place his foot.
As soon as he heaved himself up, there was a loud creaking and clattering sound as the windowsill he had been grabbing bent under his weight and he fell back, stumbling and falling, kicking over a bucket filled with gardening tools behind him. Dantalion flinched at the sound and held his laughter in at the sight of the chaos. Lights blinked open behind the previously darkened window and Dantalion saw someone approaching as a dark figure behind the curtains.
Finn wasn’t hurt, Dantalion couldn’t smell blood.
The curtains were swept aside and the window pushed open and what looked like an older version of Finn peered out from the window.
“Finn,” the copy hissed. “What the hell are you doing? You’re lucky mom and dad are out late.”
“It’s fine,” Finn huffed back at him, standing up while gathering the fallen pieces of his dignity. “I was just-”
“Are you drunk?” The copy - Lucas's - voice was an angry, disbelieving hiss now.
“No,” Finn stated firmly, clearly lying even if it wasn’t for the way he stuck his hands in his pockets in a sullen way. “Go back to sleep, Luc.” Lucas shook his head and all but slammed the window closed. Slowly, Finn started approaching the door, barely making it halfway there until Lucas opened it and gestured to him to come in.
“Did you walk home by yourself?” he asked, but didn’t wait for a response, “mom’s gonna be pissed if she sees you like that. Go drink some water and brush your teeth.” Finn’s expression turned even more sullen, but he didn’t argue. Exhaustion now seemingly weighing him down.
“A customer walked me here,” he muttered as he reached the door.
“What customer?” Lucas’s voice asked just before he closed the door behind them. Dantalion stayed to watch the house for a while longer, before turning around and starting to head towards the direction of Leif’s house. It was still two to three hours before dawn.
He had time.
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