7.2 Cat and Canary

When Leo contacted Opal complaining that a supernatural force had invaded the trailer park, I was relieved when she called me to help patrol. Now that I knew Dorian using his powers for good only fed his demonic side, I couldn't risk him sticking his neck out to save us, again. While his sacrifices made Dark Dorian stronger, they made me weak.

"Thanks for calling," I said, hands in my pockets as we strolled the quiet streets of the park. Midnight in Haven Court was eerie, but not as eerie as the thought of me being a hunter. "Why did you call?"

Opal shrugged, eyes peeled for trouble as she glanced behind us. "When you look into the void, it looks back at you. You know supernaturals exist, now they know you exist too. You must learn to protect yourself. So one day, when you are undoubtedly eaten, I will be able to say I did everything I could."

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence. I guess." The streetlamp above flickered as we past. "Uh, so, what exactly are we looking for again?"

"Black-Eyed People. No one knows where they come from or why they're here. But they are evil, so it is my job to vanquish them."

"Evil. Vanquish. Check." I nodded, like I knew exactly what the hell I was doing. "An-n-n-n-d how do we do that?"

Opal rummaged in her backpack. "Sodium and holy water will keep them back," she said, passing me a water bottle and a container of salt. "And my angel blade will return them to wherever they came from." Exactly like magic, Opal unsheathed a silver, glowing sword from a scabbard that didn't exist, showing off as she twirled the blade.

"Holy smokes. Do I get one of those?"

"No. Walk."

I followed Opal, watching her re-sheath the sword. "Have you ever tried that on Dorian?"

Opal stopped short. "I have tried many swords on Dorian Gray."

"Ope, it wasn't just my life he saved on the yacht. He saved yours too. And when his demonic side trapped you in the winter painting, he refused to leave without you. He's changed."

"He killed the love of my life!" she replied, taking an angry step forward.

I nodded. "Yes, he did. But he's not asking for your forgiveness. I am."

Opal clucked. "You have some nerve."

"A drop or two is all it takes."

She sighed - then stiffened, her gaze trained over my shoulder. "We have company."

I turned. Down the street, a lone figure watched us from beneath a flickering lamp post, still as a statue. If not for the solid black eyes, the pale skin, and haunting expression, it could have been anyone at all - someone I went to school with, someone's brother, someone's friend.

"He's a monster," said Opal, unsheathing her sword once again. "If he gets past me, don't let it touch you--run. Understand?"

"My inner coward is on standby," I replied, fingers raised in Scout's Honor.

"Good. Now watch and learn."

Opal set off down the street, swinging her angel blade with another expert flourish. I watched, impressed by the way she handled the sword, parrying the creature's blows while avoiding it's touch. Other hunters may have given Opal a hard time for letting Dorian Gray slip through her fingers, but no one could say she wasn't a master in her field. She was magnificent.

"Home. Can you take me home?" I turned, starting in surprise at the figure standing behind me. It was just a child, maybe four or five. A pale little girl with a moon face and black eyes, clutching a teddy bear. "Please take me home. Please."

My hands shook. Slowly, I uncapped the salt.

"I want to belong," it said. "I want to go home." The little girl turned with me, watching from alien, expressionless eyes as I trapped it in a circle of salt.

"You're not going to make this easy, are you?"

"I want to go home," it repeated. "I want to belong."

I glanced behind me. Opal was still engaged with the other creature, the sound of their battle echoing down the street. I sighed, then got down on one knee, face to face with my own monster.

"We all want to belong," I said. "We all want a home. But if you stay, my friend will hurt you."

"Make me a home. Make me belong."

I opened my mouth to tell her it was impossible, that I couldn't do it - then suddenly I had an idea. I couldn't bring myself to kill a monster wearing the face of a child, but there was something I could do... Reaching inside my backpack, I removed the pencil and sketch book I carried with me, took a seat on the sidewalk, and got to work. It only took a few minutes. When I finished, I ripped out the page, holding up the drawing for the little girl to inspect.

She pointed at the sketch. "Home."

I nodded. "It's a house. See? With a mommy and a daddy and a dog and a white picket fence. And it's all yours."

"Home?"

"Home." Taking a leap of faith, I broke the salt circle with the toe of my boot and held out the sketch. "You'll always belong."

She stretched her small hand towards the picture, her body dissipating into smoke as she flowed inside the picture. Sighing in relief, I gazed down at the drawing, where a small, black-eyed child now held hands with the mommy and daddy.

"I leave you alone for five minutes." Opal stood behind me, shaking her head as she sheathed her sword.

I shrugged. "You have your way of doing things. I have mine."

"Clever. But she's still dangerous. Even from there."

"I know. But at least this way I could give her what she wanted first." Reaching in my back pocket, I removed my lucky Zippo and set the drawing on fire.

We might have shared a moment after the kraken had nearly killed us, but Vanida's usual seat remained empty in Politics. Instead, she sat across the room, as far away as she could get, and never once made eye contact. What good was learning to navigate conflict between conflicting parties when I couldn't even mend my own friendships?

A few days after taking on the Black-Eyed People, Melanie found me, melancholy and morose, eating lunch alone in the quad.

"Hey! Haven't seen you since the yacht party." She dropped her bag on the picnic table, taking the empty seat across from me. She dug out a yogurt and spoon, hoop earrings flashing in the sunlight. "Remember that chick with the swords. Can't decide if that was bad-ass or crazy."

"Definitely both. Did the coast guard ever find the... squid?"

"They dragged the lake but nothing came up. Needless to say, I don't think anyone's gonna be swimming in Pearl Lake any time soon."

My phone interrupted with a buzz; I glanced at the screen. Another missed call from Dorian.

I sighed. "Maybe that's for the best."

"You okay?" Melanie lowered her spoon. "Haven't seen you with Vanida lately."

"You noticed."

"You're noticeable."

"We're... keeping our distance. We both have a lot going on."

"Look, I'll admit, back when we were together, I was kinda jealous of your friendship with Van."

"Seriously?"

"Shut-up." She laughed. "But I was only insecure because you two were so solid. You're the Scrappy to her Scooby Doo."

"I thought I was Scooby."

"Not a chance. The point is, you guys make a really good team. Whatever's going on, I'm sure you two will patch things up in time for my Halloween party.

My stomach dropped. "Halloween party?"

"It's to die for," said Melanie, licking her spoon as she winked.

There was a reason I wasn't excited for Melanie's Halloween shindig. After the yacht party, rumors had cropped up all over town. The giant squid had made the newspaper; now ghosts, vampires, and werewolves were the next big thing. Everyone chalked it up to Halloween pranks but some of us knew the truth - Dark Dorian was having his fun with the paintings I had curated for the gallery. Needless to say, Opal had her hands full.

"And another one bites the dust." She removed something from the burlap sack in her hand, setting it on my desk in triumph.

I stared at the bloody, severed head, disgusted by its grotesque, hairy features and the slack tongue poking between its fangs.

"Really, Opal? Really?" I hurried around the desk, peeking in the hallway before closing the door to my office.

"I thought you would like to see the product of your efforts in its final form--deceased."

"I'm sorry. I had to paint something." I grabbed a pencil from the holder on my desk, poking the thing between its crossed eyes. "I thought if it was small it wouldn't be so... vicious. I was going for a tiny troll."

"Looks more like a gremlin," she replied, plopping in the seat and placing her boots on my desk. "Or maybe a cross between a were-beast and wendigo. You painters have a warped imagination."

"Could you please put that away?"

Rolling her eyes, Opal placed the head back inside her bloody burlap. "This is madness. First Black-Eyed People, now this? How can I concentrate on Dark Dorian when he's setting his beasts on the Village?"

"Exactly," I said, taking a seat behind my desk and rubbing my temples. "That's the way he wants it. One of the gallery clients has a thing for mythology. The Black Eyed People are just one part of a long list of his crazy horror themes."

"Quel imbécile! Where is the solution, hmm?"

"I'm working on it!"

"Then you must work faster, no? Halloween will be over soon--we cannot keep up this charade of tricks and treats forever." Opal crossed her legs, manicured hands spread in question. "And Dorian--what does he say?"

"I wouldn't know. I haven't spoken to him since the yacht party."

"Quoi!" She removed her feet from the desk, sitting up straight. "And why not?"

"It's the demon. He's using the real Dorian's feelings against me. The demon knows the real Dorian will do whatever he can to protect me. But that's selfish, so it makes Dark Dorian stronger. I have to keep him away."

"So you push the angel back and bring the devil close." Opal tutted. "Not a bad plan."

"Thank you."

"It's a stupid one. Leo said you were in harmony. You disrupt the harmony."

"Ope, my hands are tied. I don't know what else to do."

"Besides pushing everyone away?"

I scowled.

"You have no friends, are estranged from family. You bury yourself in work. Now you send away the only person who can protect you from his own demon? Genius, move. Not that I judge."

I rolled my eyes at her obvious lie, but she was right - what the hell was I doing?

"You said yourself that he is changed. But how am I supposed to forgive him when even you refuse to trust him?"

I threw my hands in defeat. "Touché."

"Make it right, eh? Now, I must away." Opal rose from her seat, heading for the door. "Another monster to hunt. I hear it's flesh-eating. Not a bad night."

"Aren't you forgetting something?" I pointed at the bloody burlap.

"You're not busy, are you? Be a doll and burn that for me--and don't forget to grind the fangs to dust. Regeneration is a bitch. Au revoir!" The huntress twiddled her fingers, shutting the door before I could argue.

That night, as I stood in the forest, burning the head in a barrel and grinding the fangs to scatter the dust, I couldn't help but wish that all my messes were this easy to clean.

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