Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
Okay this took way too long. :p And after a cliffhanger too! It ended up being the longest chapter so far too, actually. This is like over 4000 words. That’s a lot for me because usually I’m way too impatient to write long chapters. But I’ve been hit by a sudden productivity thing now! At least for the last few days. Heres hoping it’ll last.
In this chapter: Bahorel is possessed by a spirit and Jehan is badly wounded. The others need to deal with the situation. Holy crap, there’s actually some action in this? And lot’s of supernatural elements.
Thank you all so much for your support so far, btw. ♥
Also, I should probably come up with a title for this story… The problem is that I suck at titles. I’d probably end up just calling it “The ABC Supernatural Detective Agency”. But then again that’s better than Les Amis Supernatural AU. So maybe I should.
Chapter 4
“GRANTAIRE LOOK OUT!”
Courfeyrac and Joly heard Prouvaire’s shout and immediately abandoned the hollow sounding spot in the floor they had been inspecting.
“Stay back”, said Courfeyrac to Joly as he ran towards the bar room. Joly was the healer, he needed to stay safe. Feuilly, something is wrong here, we heard Prouvaire shouting. Come over but don’t come in before I call for you!
Roger that.
He stopped before going up the stairs to the bar room, trying to assess the situation. Prouvaire? Jehan? What happened?
The reply was incoherent and distracted. All Courfeyrac managed to figure out was: Bahorel
Bahorel? he tried to shift his connection and then immediately retreated when he was hit by a storm of… something, a feeling totally alien to Bahorel. Or any human.
Well that couldn’t be good. He heard sounds from the room, heavy breathing, shuffling… Grantaire? Please, please reply…
Courf, Bahorel’s possessed! He bit Jehan!
Fuck!
There’s… there’s too much blood, Courfeyrac!
If Prouvaire was down, they were missing their best exorcist. And the second best, Combeferre, wasn’t around. They’d have to immobilise Bahorel somehow until they could work out the spell. Is it safe to enter?
I think so, but be quiet. Let him focus on me.
Grantaire had barely finished saying that when he already growled: “Bahorel! Or whoever you are! Spirit person! You wanna play with Big R?”
Courfeyrac climbed the stairs as quietly as he could. First he peeked over the floor level. Prouvaire was indeed down. He was lying awkwardly on top of a fallen chair as if he’d been thrown there, like a ragdoll. Bahorel and Grantaire were circling a table, face to face. Grantaire was holding a baton that was probably a leg of a broken chair. Bahorel was hunched, looking wild and out of his mind. And yet eerily quiet.
“No answer?” said Grantaire. “What is it with you silent types? Do you have something against communication or what? I get that it’s all mystical and shit and that’s your deal but it’s just annoying to us. Or are you one of those that don’t even understand human language? Or are you foreign? I suppose spirits could be foreign too.”
Joly. Bahorel is possessed. Grantaire is distracting the spirit but I’d be happier to have some help subduing him. Especially if we want to avoid hurting him, which I reckon we should at least try. Come closer and be ready to jump in if we need it.
Grantaire waved his makeshift weapon. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just leave my friend’s body alone? We’ll just leave you here in peace, I promise. We’re definitely not spirit bigots. We love spirits. Some of our best friends are spirits.”
Aye aye, Captain.
“No?” Grantaire moved, trying to keep Bahorel faced away from the stairs. “Well, if you want a fight, you’ll get it. Come on, big boy. I’m not–”
Bahorel hissed and threw the table at Grantaire.
Courfeyrac abandoned his original plan to wait until Joly made it behind him and climbed the rest of the stairs. He slipped closer to Bahorel as quietly as he could until the possessed man jumped at Grantaire.
Courfeyrac ran the rest of the way and kicked him off Grantaire, then threw himself on top of the man while he was off-balance and pinned him to the floor. “Bad spirit! No hurting my friends. Oh fu–” Of course this was easier said than done. Bahorel was strong and fought back fiercely, still hissing ferociously.
They had wrestled before, of course, and usually Courfeyrac would have been a decent enough match to Bahorel, especially with the benefit of surprise and a better position. But this wasn’t play fighting. Courfeyrac couldn’t go all out on his friend, but the spirit had no such limits. It clawed his skin open, it bit him wherever it could reach and it finally managed to flip them around while he was in too much pain to fight back. His shoulder hit the floor agonisingly and he nearly blacked out.
Then Joly was there, trying to restrain Bahorel but only managed to draw the attack on himself. He was definitely not in Bahorel’s league, even if he did use that rainbow umbrella with surprising talent. “Courf! You alright?” he called between Bahorel’s swings, sounding somehow chipper and distressed at the same time.
“Yeah.” He tried to get up and was hit by blinding pain. “No wait, actually I might not be.”
“Darn. Bahorel, snap out of it! Do you really want to miss the fight being possessed? You’ll be so upset afterwards! Ow!”
They needed more people. Courfeyrac thought desperately. Right, Feuilly! Feuilly! It took him an agonising couple of seconds to find Feuilly’s mind. Come in, quick!
There was a popping noise from outside and then Feuilly burst in. He blinked, trying to adjust to the darkness. “What’s going on?”
“Bahorel’s possessed!” Grantaire shouted. He was up again and already moving in to help Joly.
Finally, with Feuilly’s help, they managed to restrain Bahorel. Joly went to get his bag (which was seemingly bottomless because it always contained EVERYTHING Joly happened to need), pulled out some rope and tied him to a chair, though Grantaire and Feuilly kept a hold on him just to be sure. He hissed and snarled at them, like a trapped animal.
“Joly, check Jehan, quickly!” Courfeyrac said and then forced himself up despite the pain and followed Joly to the wounded.
“Nothing vital is broken at least”, said Joly with relief, after pulling Jehan’s shirt up to scan him with his handy x-ray vision. “We can move him.”
They did, settling him on the floor. He gasped in pain but, on the plus side, at least he was conscious now. Courfeyrac snatched his bag from him and looted it for exorcism materials. “Can you handle him?”
“I could use help. Jehan?” called Joly. “Jehan, can you talk?”
Jehan’s reply was weak but it was a clear word. “Yeah.”
“Good. Are you–”
Courfeyrac couldn’t make out what Jehan said to interrupt but Joly repeated it immediately. “It’s a cat! The spirit is a cat, he said!”
“What, it’s the kitten?” said Grantaire in disbelief.
“Apparently yes. And now, Jehan, you need to shut up. No more talking out loud. Courfeyrac, you mindtalk to him if it’s necessary. And keep pressure on his neck wound.”
“Okay, Doc.” He only now noticed how much his arms were shaking from the fight. He couldn’t move his right shoulder without feeling like it was being torn out. Anything else we should know?
It’s not an ordinary spirit. There’s a spell… Combeferre…
“Courfeyrac”, Joly interrupted, “he’s lost too much blood. I need to do a spell and I need someone’s blood to substitute what’s lost. Fresh blood.”
“Damn…”
“It’s that or we have to get him to a hospital right away.”
“I’m the healthiest here”, said Feuilly. “Use mine.”
“No”, said Courfeyrac. “It doesn’t have to be all from one person, right? We’ll all give a little bit. But you can give a bigger portion if you insist, Feuilly.”
Joly pulled out a syringe and collected the blood from each of them into a vial. “I don’t have time to disinfect this properly”, he lamented, doing his best to clean the needle between donors.
“Can’t affort to worry about that now. Oh right, Jehan said something about a spell, told me to ask Combeferre. You don’t need help with yours, do you?”
“Oh, come on”, said Joly, pouting. “It’s a basic procedure.” He was using a marker to draw a magic circle on Jehan’s bare chest. Then he put the vial in the middle, holding his patient still so it didn’t fall, and started reading the incantation. Then he added a drop of Jehan’s blood into the mix. The blood began to swirl.
Courfeyrac kept his shaking hands on Jehan’s neck and sent his mind towards the city. Combeferre?
It took a while to find him. Joly pushed Courfeyrac’s hand off and poured the blood out of the vial over Jehan’s neck. The blood slithered through the air like a floating snake into the open wound.
Finally Combeferre was there: What is it?
Oh thank the fucking god. Courfeyrac did his best to explain the mess.
A spell on the cat?
Seems so. Unless it’s another cat’s spirit.
And Prouvaire is incapacitated?
Severe blood loss, that’s pretty incapacitated I imagine.
I have a hunch. Was the skeleton either over or under the entrance to the first room in the inn?
Courfeyrac thought about it. Actually, I think it was. In the room right under the bar.
That’s a good hint but it would be better to know for certain what the spell was about.
How? I don’t think Jehan’s up to it right now.
Courfeyrac got the impression of a sigh from Combeferre’s mind. Grantaire might be able to see it.
Oh. He won’t like that.
I know. Tell me if he refuses, I have a back-up plan to convince him.
~~
Grantaire did indeed not like it. “No.”
“I’m sorry, R, but we need you to. It’s to save Bahorel.”
“Then wait until Jehan wakes up.”
“Grantaire, you’re being an arsehole.”
“Courfeyrac, he’s just a tiny little thing!” Grantaire said desperately. “I can’t! I’ve seen enough horrible shit done to cute little creatures today! I’m just protecting my mental health here! And you’re gonna make me draw what I saw, too. I already deserve a fucking medal. I deserve drinks from every single one of you! Bahorel can fucking wait.”
Apparently Bahorel can wait, Courfeyrac informed Combeferre.
Just a second.
“And possibly therapy too. I should get a bonus for therapy.”
“They’re gonna put me in the movies / They’re gonna make a big star out of me–”
“Grantaire, your phone is ringing”, said Feuilly.
“Oh.” Grantaire picked up the phone, still keeping one hand on Bahorel. “Hello?”
His face fell. “Yes, Enjolras”, he said in a voice of surrender and put the phone away. “Apparently I need to do ‘whatever Combeferre and Courfeyrac asked’ me to.”
Thanks. Courfeyrac sent to Combeferre as Grantaire pulled out a flask from his pocket and took a sip for courage.
Thank Enjolras and Grantaire’s unhealthy obsession.
Grantaire found the kitten on the floor, miraculously still more or less in one piece. He took a deep breath and laid his hand gently on it. He immediately winced. “I hate you all”, he said. “Also, seriously, let’s kill these goblins.”
Courfeyrac put a hand on his shoulder, trying to be supportive. Not that he thought it would help but at least Grantaire didn’t object.
He closed his eyes and was quiet for a minute. Then he pulled away. “I couldn’t hear the spell. They did it too long before the little guy died so it’s out of my reach. But I saw the magic circle and it’s a guarding spell of some sort…”
“They… they killed a little kitten to turn him into a spiritual guard dog?” Joly asked, stricken. “And what was it even for? There’s nothing in this shack!”
“Maybe it’s for something that used to be here and they just couldn’t be bothered to remove the spell?”
“Let’s worry about that later”, said Feuilly. “Handle Bahorel first.”
“Thanks, R”, said Courfeyrac quietly, pressing his shoulder. “You’re our hero.”
“Shut up.” Grantaire blushed and took a long drink from his flask.
“The classic reluctant antihero.” Courfeyrac grinned and pulled him into a hug.
He called Combeferre to give him a full description of the spell directly and Combeferre, who had of course already looked it up (Grantaire of course complained about this: “why did you need me to do that then?!” – “for the details”, Combeferre said calmly), explained the counterspell to Joly.
“Joly, you don’t actually have to draw the circle on his chest…” reminded Feuilly. “I’m pretty sure under his chair would be enough.”
“Oh. Right. I’m so used to healing spells. Well, it should work either way! Somebody put the bones in his lap.”
Grantaire slipped as far from the kitten skeleton as he could and Feuilly fetched them instead.
Joly started reading the incantation. Bahorel growled and struggled in his bonds.
“Shit, he’s gonna escape!” Grantaire and Feuilly hurried towards Bahorel but Joly gestured them to stay away, waving his hands and shaking his head as he kept reading.
The magic circle started glowing, like an eclipse, as if the ink was covering an exact copy of the same magic circle on Bahorel’s chest. Then the light turned into a sort of shining mist, like light in gas form, that circled around him, then concentrated closer and closer to his body.
And then he broke loose.
Joly yelped and fell back. The magic circle on Bahorel’s chest went dark and he pounced over Joly and over the tables, running out through the door.
“Crap”, said Joly. “Sorry. I just couldn’t let you touch him, it could have just transferred itself into one of you during the spell.”
“It’s okay, Joly, we know”, said Courfeyrac but sighed. “It was such a pain catching him the first time…”
“Wait!” said Joly. “Maybe you don’t have to catch him. The circle is on him already. Just lure him in somehow.” He started collecting the kitten bones on the floor, gathering them all together. Then he drew an identical magic circle around them. “I’m not sure if this will work but it might?”
The others looked at him suspiciously. “Well… if you say so”, said Courfeyrac. “Get him, guys!”
Grantaire and Feuilly ran after Bahorel. Courfeyrac checked on Jehan. “Is he going to be alright? Jehan I mean.”
“What? Oh, yeah. He’s just sleeping. It’s good for him at this stage.”
Courfeyrac nodded and left Jehan to convalesce in peace. Instead he followed Feuilly and Grantaire out.
Thankfully Bahorel hadn’t run far. He was pacing in the backyard, glaring at Feuilly and Grantaire.
“Maybe we should circle behind him”, Feuilly suggested. “He might feel threatened and go back in.”
“If he let’s us”, muttered Grantaire.
“There are three of us, he can’t stop us all.”
Courfeyrac nodded. “Let’s do that.”
To their surprise, Bahorel didn’t try to stop them at all. He just glared at them.
“Okay, easy now…” said Feuilly.
Grantaire lifted his makeshift baton a bit. They stepped slowly closer to Bahorel, driving him towards the broken door. He went easily.
“Too easy”, complained Grantaire. “That’s a bad sign.”
Suddenly Bahorel turned and ran inside, slamming the inner door shut behind him.
Courfeyrac leapt down after him into the corridor but the door was firmly shut, despite not even having a lock.
Grantaire and Feuilly followed, both cursing heavily as they tried to push the door open.
“Fuck”, said Courfeyrac too. “That’s what we get for separating.”
“We should have learnt this from movies…” agreed Feuilly.
They pushed and beat the door but it was useless. They could hear Joly yelling inside.
“He’s attacking him!” said Grantaire, sounding a little panicked. He kept pounding on the door about as effectively as if he was beating it with a pillow.
“I’m going in”, said Feuilly, popping away.
Courfeyrac reached inside with his mind. Jehan! Jehan, please wake up!
“Damn it, Bahorel, why do you have to get possessed and then get us into a situation where we’d need you?” Grantaire whined.
~~
Jehan woke up with a start. He knew immediately that he was in danger.
Right, the goblin inn, the cat spirit, Bahorel!
People were fighting on the other side of the room and someone was pounding on the door.
He sat up. His body was still annoyingly weak despite Joly’s care. Joly… Joly was fighting with the spirit! “Joly!”
The spirit turned and hissed at him but seemed to deem him too weak to be a threat, especially when he… no, probably she? was busy fighting two opponents.
Two? Oh, Feuilly was there too, that was a relief.
“Prouvaire!” Joly yelled, trying to keep Bahorel away with his umbrella. “Can you do the spell?!”
“I can exorcise her but she’ll just latch onto one of us instead!”
“No, the anti– whoah!” Joly leapt out of Bahorel’s reach to avoid a sudden attack. Feuilly had fallen over. “Anti-guardian spell! Quickly, please!”
“Oh.” A guardian, of course. Jehan recognised the feeling now. “I’ll try.” He had no idea what the spell should be.
“There’s a– crap!” Joly was now running away from Bahorel. “Circle on the floor!”
Feuilly tried to trip Bahorel as he passed him but he leapt over with the grace of a cat.
Jehan crawled to the circle. There was something inside. Kitten bones, tiny, cute and dead. But that wasn’t enough, was it? “You need to get him within the circle!”
Feuilly managed to get up and jumped Bahorel from behind.
“He has – ” Joly gasped turning around to fight back again, “ a circle on his chest!”
Oh, like healing magic. That could work. It was appropriate enough. Jehan had no idea what spell he was supposed to use but the circle gave him the general idea of what was needed. He’d just need to invent his own spell to fit it. But first he reached out for the spirit.
“Try to get away from him, leave him in peace so she’ll listen to me!” He waited until the others had backed off from Bahorel in two different directions, confusing the spirit who couldn’t decide which one to attack. Then he started singing in a sort of lullaby-ish tone, making up words as he went:
“Little baby,
I think you may be
trapped inside a hole
a storm inside your soul
But if you hear me
don’t you fear me
I don’t want you any harm
I could take you somewhere warm
This might sound like a lie
since I did throw salt at you
and I can’t think of rhymes right now
but I was only defending my
friend, you see?
I could take your storm away
and you wouldn’t have to stay
any longer in this sty
so would you like to try
to trust me?”
This didn’t seem to have the effect he had hoped. The spirit was listening but not convinced. Well, admittedly the song was far from his best work. “We could get you some tuna too, if you like?”
Bahorel stopped glaring at Joly and Feuilly and instead looked at him with suspicious interest.
“And a ball of yarn? Would you like that?”
The spirit wasn’t quite friendly but at least she wasn’t as defensive anymore. She meowed (in Bahorel’s voice, it was adorable!) and Jehan could suddenly smell and taste something familiar…
“Oh! Shrimps? That works too. Feuilly, could you go out and buy some tuna, shrimps and a ball of yarn. I’ll pay you back when we’re done.”
“… Okay. If you’re sure you’ll be okay here.”
“If I’m not, you can just pop back in, right?”
“True.” And Feuilly popped out.
Joly collapsed, breathing heavily, into a chair. “Make sure he doesn’t attack again because I’ll probably just let him eat me at this point. I swear I’ll start working out more from now on.”
“Shrimps”, Jehan reminded the spirit. “And a ball of yarn. If you’re nice and don’t hurt my friends.” He started chanting. It was almost as improvised as the calming song and not all that good but the magic circles were both activating, shining brightly. Jehan weaved in a little soul-healing spell for the spirit. And finally a light exorcism to get her out.
The kitten climbed out of Bahorel’s mouth like a vaguely cat-shaped fluid. Bahorel fell to the floor like a Bahorel-shaped fluid.
The spirit floated to Jehan who hoped she wasn’t planning to possess him. He didn’t want to put up a shield that might scare her away but there was always a risk when you didn’t.
It was alright, though. The spirit just floated there and glared at him a little angrily but didn’t try to attack.
The door opened suddenly and Grantaire and Courfeyrac spilled in. Everybody was having a bit of a non-solid day, apparently.
“Jeh–” started Grantaire but Courfeyrac hushed him and nodded at Jehan.
“Nice kitty?” he whispered softly.
“A very nice kitty.” Half of his reply was optimism and at least a quarter a plea for the spirit. But he did believe she wouldn’t attack them if they didn’t make any sudden moves.
He felt a little queasy, now that the excitement was over. But he’d need to hang on until he was sure everything was alright. He didn’t drop eye contact with the spirit and hummed calmingly at her.
~~
“It’s good that we made it here before the demolition crew”, said Joly, checking Bahorel. “That spirit would definitely have attacked them.”
“She would have, yes”, Jehan agreed. “You need to burn them”, he explained to Feuilly who was back with the seafood and the yarn. The kitten forgot Jehan and started running excitedly around the bringer of the good stuff. Jehan caught her right before she possessed Feuilly.
“Joly, how is Bahorel?” asked Feuilly, putting broken pieces of furniture into the fireplace.
“Let me see.” Joly slapped his patient.
Bahorel woke up with a start and punched him.
Joly groaned, holding his bruised jaw but his voice was delighted when he replied: “Alive at least.”
Bahorel blinked. “What the… fuck?” He tried to get up and let out a miserable sound. “Who unleashed the kraken on me?”
“The goblins”, said Jehan. “And the kraken in this case was a tiny and furry one.” He held out a careful hand to the little troublemaker.
Bahorel frowned at the spirit kitten that he probably couldn’t see. “Is that–” His face fell.
Jehan nodded sadly.
~~
The yarn burned easily but the food was crackling in the flames. Jehan said it was fine.
“She jumped in”, he said.
“Will she be alright?” asked Bahorel solemnly.
Jehan smiled.
“Good for you, you little shit. Go possess some other poor bastards somewhere nice.”
They went out to bury the bones. Feuilly dug the hole. Grantaire was already there, drawing the girl on Courfeyrac’s orders and mostly ignoring them.
“If it was a guarding spell, why didn’t it activate right away?” Bahorel asked. “Why did I have to touch the bones, what’s the point in that?”
“I think it did get inside you right away, remember how you coughed so much when you stepped in?” Joly suggested. “Maybe it just didn’t activate until someone tried to take something out of here. Namely Grantaire and the bucket.”
“How is the bucket important?”
“Maybe it isn’t”, Courfeyrac guessed, “it might just be that he was taking something without permission. Jehan, you okay?”
Jehan, who had sat down on ground, made a vaguely affirmative noise as he curled up in the grass and fell asleep.
“He’s probably just tired”, Joly said but crouched down to check him anyway.
Bahorel joined him. “Wow… I went straight for his throat?” He stared at the bandages around Jehan’s neck.
“If you’re the enchanted spirit kitten, then yes you did”, said Joly.
“Shut up. Let me wallow in guilt for a minute at least. How’s everybody else anyway?”
Joly jumped a bit. “Crap! I forgot! Courfeyrac!”
“What?” said Courfeyrac innocently.
“Your arm. Right here, sit down.”
“Yes, Doctor Joly…” He rolled his eyes but obeyed. “Now where’s my pretty nurse? What’s the point of getting hurt if you can’t take advantage of it?”
“What, I’m not pretty enough for you?” said Joly as he carefully pulled Courfeyrac’s shirt off, trying to sound offended but betrayed by his grin. He poked at his shoulder painfully and scanned it with his X-ray vision thing.
Courfeyrac bit back a groan. “Maybe, but you’re taken. By two people. And doctors just aren’t as hot as nurses, sorry.”
“If I’m taken by two people, that just proves that I’m polyamorous! Does this hurt?”
Courfeyrac yelled out.
“Sounds like a yes. Well, luckily it isn’t broken and–” Joly suddenly wrenched his arm violently to its place. “– now it isn’t dislocated either”, he finished cheerfully.
Bahorel, who had clearly somehow been in on it (Courfeyrac would have suspected telepathy except… well, that was his own thing), covered Courfeyrac’s mouth with his hand so his scream was muffled.
“Grantaire, I need to check you too!” said Joly as Bahorel let go and Courfeyrac cursed them both to the seventh generation. “You’re welcome, Courf.”
Grantaire grunted. “You aren’t making it very appealing. But then, I suppose I am a masochist.” He put away his crayons and looked sourly up at Courfeyrac. “I finished your fucking picture.”
“I hope that wasn’t literal. I didn’t ask for child porn.”
“Shut up.”
Courfeyrac laughed languidly, still tired from pain, and took the drawing from Grantaire. He stopped laughing.
The little girl couldn’t be more than seven years old but she didn’t even look like a child as much as a skeleton. She was covered in bruises the size of dinner plates and, at least the way Grantaire had drawn them, dark as overripe plums. She was wearing no shoes and nothing but the wispy remains of what might have once been clothes. All her extremities were raw red.
He stared at the picture long and hard.
“I’m with you, R,” he said. “let’s kill these goblins.”
~~
NOTES:
liberté • égalité • amitié 