Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

What's new, Charlie dear?

“Alright, just sign here and they’ll be free to go.”

The pen — unlike every other cheap, chewed-up pen she’d used in this damned station — glided a little too easily across the waiver. It was to the point where it made her half-wonder if the station had finally managed to set aside enough in the budget to finally buy some decent writing utensils. She paused, single eye narrowed at the thin trail of ink that made up her signature, half-praying if it would explode in her face and she could just walk out and forget this entire thing.

Unfortunately, the one time she actually wanted something to fight her, it didn’t. So it was all she could do to click it shut and lift her gaze.

Officer Harold O’Carrick -– forty-two, married with two kids, softball coach on Thursdays, and prediabetic if the candy drawer in his desk was anything to go by — offered her a tired, rueful smile. A man resigned to his fate, it seemed. And unfortunately, tonight, “his fate” meant dealing with those two.

With the sort of sigh that could only come from a man that had done this way too many times, he spun the cell keys around one finger and jerked his chin towards the back hallway.

Nice to know she wasn’t the only one tired of this shit.

The holding cells that greeted them were as cold as ever. Bright fluorescent lights flickered and buzzed loudly overhead, nearly drowning out their footsteps. The air reeked of chlorine-based cleaner and the underlying musk of a place where people routinely cried, threw up, cried some more, then maybe soiled themselves once that was all done. With each cell they passed, innumerable sets of eyes peaked out — some desperate, others intrigued, and still more leering at her with the sort of sneer that would immediately make anyone recoil in disgust. Despite herself, she hugged her arms to her chest, shrinking into herself slightly until they finally reached their destination and Officer O’Carrick unlocked the bars.

And there they were: the idiots.

Alastor was sitting upright against the wall, arms crossed, eyes closed, head tilted slightly downwards. His chest rose and fell in even, rhythmic cadence. Lucifer, meanwhile, lay across his lap, eyes also closed. Despite his relaxed posture, however, his hands moved rhythmically, picking at the frayed cuffs of his shirt. He’d already pulled a few threads loose — a sign that today had been a lot, even for him.

At the sound of their approaching footsteps and the rattling opening of the cell door, both men’s eyes snapped open.

Lucifer’s face lit up in an instant. “Maggie!” He clambered off of Alastor’s lap and ran over, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug. She got a good whiff of his hair then — dust, jail, and what smelled suspiciously like Charlie’s cherry blossom and apples shampoo. “Oh, it’s so good to see you!”

Alastor, for his part, casually wiggled his fingers as he waved. “You’re nearly an hour late this time around, my dear. Don’t tell me Charlie got lost on her way here again. You’d think she’d know her way around here by now!”

Vaggi’s scowl was apparently dark enough to get Lucifer to actually freeze a bit and back off on his hug. “Actually, it’s because we had to clean up the mess that you two made. Took a lot of convincing, but Charlie finally got the museum to drop the charges, and—”

“Wait, Charlie saved us!?” Lucifer gasped, eyes growing wide with sparkly admiration. Before he could launch into his proud-dad tirade, a hard look from her gave him pause. His jaw shut with a snap, then came a sheepish grin. “Well, I—erm, we—uh… we can explain. Maybe.”

“Mm…” Alastor hummed, stretching lazily before standing and walking out of the cell. “Probably not. Though I’m sure had things gone to plan, we would’ve gotten quite a few things for a steal!”

Vaggi smacked him on the arm for that.

Once the paperwork was handled and Officer O’Carrick waved them off, the three of them filed out into the crisp night air. The stars were already out, and a full moon hung high in the sky, much to Vaggi’s displeasure. This was the exact kind of weather that made people think that doing stupid things was a good idea. The sort of night where she just knew by the next day, she and Charlie would be bailing the two idiots out of some other terrible situation… again.

Charlie stood at the curb next to the van — the eggshell white, windowless van that Alastor had apparently gotten for a “great price” somewhere through some sort of transaction he still had yet to explain the details of. Charlie kept promising that she’d paint flowers on the side one day, and Lucifer kept promising that he’d stencil some ducks in as well, but neither had done anything yet. So here they were, Mystery Incorporated, driving around in the exact sort of car that true crime shows warned people about, getting arrested for breaking and entering random places in pursuit of random artifacts for random rituals that none of them were sure truly worked.

Charlie’s teeth were digging so hard into her bottom lip Vaggi half-feared she was going to actually break skin. From the looks of her cuffs, she’d been picking at them again as well — a trait she’d apparently inherited from her father. The moment she saw them, however, her face lit up with such overwhelming relief that Vaggi actually felt her frustration soften. Just a little bit. Just enough for her to smile when she and Lucifer barreled forward to meet each other in yet another bone-cracking hug.

“Dad! Al! Ohmigod, you guys are okay!” she exclaimed, burying her head into Lucifer’s hair. She darted to Alastor next, delivering an embrace so crushing his smile twitched at the edges.

Vaggi crossed her arms and leaned against the van, a wry smile touching the corner of her mouth. As much as she hated it when she and Charlie had to bail her two dads out of yet another mini disaster they’d wrought, seeing Charlie’s smile at the end of the day was so completely worth it.

…Even if they were climbing into what looked suspiciously like a “Free Candy” van immediately afterwards.

Once all hugs had been delivered, all hair had ruffled, and Alastor had cracked enough bad dad jokes to make the very sky groan, they piled into their van — Lucifer in front to drive, Alastor taking shotgun, and the two young women settling into the back. After some fiddling with the built-in GPS and squabbling over whether jazz or polka was to be the soundtrack of the night, they finally settled on musical theater showtunes and drove off to their next destination.

I can do this, somehow I know it

I’ll get Heaven behind my plans

There’s just no way I could blow it

Not this once in a lifetime chance—

Vaggi slumped against the window with a low groan. The headache that had begun brewing back at the station was now blossoming into a full-blown migraine. Honestly, she didn’t really understand why Charlie always insisted on hearing the same playlist over and over again. But well, the three of them would indulge Charlie in just about anything short of felony arson; then again, given recent events, Vaggi wasn’t sure if Lucifer would say no even then.

Just another example of their collective weakness. Charlie’s optimism was a gravitational force, and they were all helplessly caught in its orbit.

“ —and it sucks, too, ‘cause we basically left empty-handed,” Lucifer groaned. Vaggi cracked one eye open, finally tuning in to whatever nonsense was happening up front.

“And just whose fault was that?” Alastor asked. He was leaning back at the moment, long legs placed upon the dashboard. Given his height, however, he looked a lot more like sad, crumpled up paper than anything else at the moment.

Lucifer glared at him. “Uh, yours? You should’ve known better than to go past the ancient pottery exhibit!”

“And you should have kept your fowl obsession with Anatidae under control long enough for me to do what we needed to do,” Alastor countered. “I understand reading can be rather difficult for you, but the ‘DO NOT TOUCH’ sign was very much at your eye level.”

“Hey, I couldn't help it!” Lucifer protested. “It looked like a cookie jar. The lid was a little hat! It was calling my name!”

“Believe me, I know,” Alastor said, an odd little note of affection creeping into his voice. Vaggi gagged at the sound of it. “Regardless, despite your significant illiteracy, I was able to do something productive.”

With a small smirk, he slipped one hand into his pocket and pulled out a large ovoid stone. It was a beautiful thing, pale gold in color. When it caught the starlight streaming into the windshield, a thin red line appeared at the center.

Charlie gasped. Lucifer whooped. Vaggi immediately regretted signing the paperwork.

“You actually stole the Cat’s Eye!?” Vaggi shouted, aghast. Her fingers twitched, every part of her itching to just smack the gem out of Alastor’s hand and toss it out the window. Maybe then they’d finally find some peace. But then, she took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. She’d just have to make sure to send a very apologetic letter to the museum later.

Alastor laughed. “Oh, come now, I wouldn’t say stole… merely borrowed! Indefinitely.”

“Yeah, borrowed!” Charlie nodded eagerly, much to Vaggi’s growing dismay. “Once we finish with it, we can give it back to the museum with a biiiiig gift basket to say we’re sorry. But now that Al’s got it, we have everything we need to do the ritual!” She clasped her hands together, still squealing. “Let’s head straight to the manor!”

“You got it, kiddo,” Lucifer confirmed, grinning. “One single-way ticket to Haunted Mansion #79! No take-backsies, no returns, and no regrets. Keep your hands and feet inside the Mystery Machine at all times, ‘cause this is gonna be a bumpy ride!”

“Do try not to break the law this time,” Alastor drawled. “I’d prefer not to get pulled over and potentially jailed again, particularly after all the effort I went through to break in and—”

“Whoa, whoa, hey, fuck you!” Lucifer snapped. “I was there too!”

“Yes,” Alastor said sweetly, “you were there to trip the alarm.”

“And distract the cops!”

“Which we only needed because you tripped the alarm.”

“Well, if you just let me help you—”

At that point, Vaggi just let her head thump lightly against the window. She was pretty sure that God or whoever was interning for Him was punishing her. She didn’t even know why they needed the stupid gem in the first place. As usual, everyone except her seemed to already know the plan.

A soft sigh escaped her as she closed her eye. One hand came up to cradle her head. She silently wished it would just explode already, if only to end her suffering.

Something soft and warm brushed her cheek a second later. Blearily, she blinked her eye open and turned, finding herself face to face with Charlie. Her girlfriend gave her a small smile, a sunbeam breaking through stormclouds. Unable to help herself, Vaggi felt her shoulders relax, shifting her position so she faced Charlie properly. Without missing a beat, Charlie took both of her hands and gave them a tight squeeze.

“Hey…” Charlie murmured.

“Hey,” Vaggi answered. She let out a low chuckle. “Is this the part where you tell me to cheer up?”

“No! Well—yes! Well—uh,” Charlie floundered, cheeks pinking. “Okay, yeah, maybe a little. I just wanted to, you know, thank you.”

“You’ve already thanked me. Six times.”

“And here’s time number seven!” Charlie chirped. “So… thank you. I know it isn’t easy, uh… chasing after them and all that.”

“I mean, I can’t lie. I still question why I’m still here. O’Carrick’s started stocking his candy drawer with Rellerindos because of me.”

Charlie blinked. “...Do you actually eat those?”

“No.”

“Oh, well… he’s trying!”

“More like trying to give himself diabetes,” Vaggi muttered, though affection softened the words. She let out another sigh. “But… look, I am worried. I don’t know how many more times I can get your dads out of jail before the cops stop letting me, you know?”

Charlie hesitated, biting her lip. “Vaggi—” She swallowed and glanced towards her dads, who now seemed to be knee deep in a debate over whether beef belonged in jambalaya — before moving back to Vaggi. “I know… this is probably just some crazy dream. Hell, I don’t think we’ve ever actually found any ghosts, but… I—I just—”

Vaggi squeezed her hands, offering a rueful smile. “I know. You want to help peop—er… ghosts.” She laced their fingers together. “But we’ve run into nothing but people in masks this entire time. And even if we do run into a real ghost, what if it just… doesn’t wanna listen? All the books you found just talk about ways to exorcise them. There’s gotta be a reason for that, right?”

Charlie’s shoulders hunched forward, voice lowering into a shaky whisper. “But… that can’t be true. It just can’t. There’s gotta be at least one ghost out there that doesn’t want to do anything bad.”

The corner of Vaggi’s mouth lifted just a touch higher. “So, scaring people out of their minds and mortgages isn’t bad?”

That won her an adorable pout and a stuck out tongue. “You know what I mean! Maybe being scary is the only way the ghost can get attention. Maybe if someone actually stops and listens to them, they can make up for scaring people and move on. Someone like…” She spread her arms, smile brilliant as a star. “The Amazingly Spectacular Ultra Special Super Ghoustlishly Gay Mystery Incorporated!”

“‘Ghoulishly gay?’” Alastor echoed, casting a glance over his shoulder. “My dear, you ought to give us more credit than that. I will not deny that I’m ghoulish, but gay—“

“Hold on now,” Lucifer interrupted. He raised an eyebrow, not taking his eyes off the road. “You are definitely gay.”

“Who said?”

“Uh, me? And you? When we got married?”

“Mm… that doesn’t sound like something I’d say.”

“Uh-huh. You just got a giant c-ace of denial.”

“I believe this is less about my denial and more about you wishing such a thing would pan out.”

“Well, you just need to f-ace the fact you’re with a man.”

“A man? You? Ha! Sounds pretty pan-tastical to me!”

“This dick doesn’t lie, you—“

“Anyways,” Charlie cut in, firmly ignoring her fathers’ continued squabbling. “I got this. I really prepared this time and really made sure to read Mom’s book back to front and upside down. I even made notes of her notes! We can do this. I just know it. If we do this right, then we’ll help the living and the dead. And then we can—we can—” Her brows knit together for a moment, a tiny frown marring her porcelain features. “We can—do something…. It’s just important, okay?”

There was something oddly fragile in her voice — a bit of hope, yes, but also unease. It was as though she was trying to piece together a map she was only half sure she’d drawn herself. Vaggi bit her lip, then sighed, shaking her head.

Charlie was always like this when they were on the verge of a new mystery — bright, enthusiastic, frantic, and maybe a little bit manic around the edges. Just another par for the course kind of night.

But there was something else there too: a longing. A desperation that had always danced at the edges of Charlie’s voice, but now seemed to be threading itself through every word. Vaggi wasn’t sure if it was the full moon, the Cat’s Eye, or the van fumes finally getting to her girlfriend’s head, but if there was one thing she knew for sure, it was that this wasn’t an argument that Vaggi was winning, no matter how hard she tried. Charlie was so caught up with her dream of helping the dead that crushing her dreams felt like a crime reserved only for the living.

“Okay,” Vaggi said, softer than before. “Look. I’m not saying we don’t go. I’m not even saying we don’t help whoever or whatever’s in that mansion. I’m just saying… if we get there and things go sideways? It’s okay to banish the thing. Your mom left those notes in, too, for a reason.”

Charlie grit her teeth, determination shining all over her face. “It won’t go sideways. It won’t. I won’t let anything fall apart on us.”

Vaggi let out a sharp puff of air through her nose. “Charlie, c’mon. Things fall apart constantly with us. Remember the time your dads tried to make an ‘important family dates’ calendar and forgot their own anniversary? Or that time we all sat around for an hour trying to remember what job Alastor had before we started Mystery Inc?”

Charlie brightened. “I still think he was a janitor!”

“He definitely wasn’t a janitor.”

“No, but how else do you explain how much he knows about industrial-grade floor wax?”

Vaggi smiled despite herself. “Anyways, point is, you don’t have to put in literally everything you have just to help one person… or ghost. If this doesn’t work, we’ll figure something else out. That’s what we’ve always done.”

Charlie’s smile softened at that. Once again, she squeezed Vaggi’s hands, thumb brushing gently over her knuckles. “I know, I just—I just want to help them. However I can. I want to help them move on.” Her gaze drifted out the van windshield towards the dark stretch of road ahead. “It—It really feels like there’s someone waiting for us to show up. Like they’re counting on us. Don’t you feel it too?”

Vaggi’s throat tightened. Her form stiffened. For a moment, everything felt too heavy. Words jumped to the tip of her tongue — the sort that she knew would drag Charlie’s head down from the clouds, but crush her hopes all at the same time. She swallowed them hard, then forced a smile on her face.

“I—”

“Alright, fine, you know what? You’re sleeping outside tonight, Bambi breath!” Lucifer snapped, shattering the moment like glass. “Let’s see how deer meat tastes in a pancake when I bring yours out all nasty and cold after the girls and I eat all the good ones. Bet you’ll really wish you agreed with me then.”

“Pancakes are quite adaptable, Lu,” Alastor countered, shooting Lucifer a sneer when he received nothing but a glare back. “And I think both of us know that I’ll be the one laughing at the end of the day when I am still thriving on a protein-rich meal while you are half-starved and desperately grasping for the nearest bag of Sour Patch Kids.”

“Hold on now, those things are delicious and the new Apple Harvest pack is amazing.”

“Yes. Amazingly talented at giving you diabetes!”

“Oh, you tasteless piece of—”

“There,” Charlie said, leaning her head against Vaggi’s shoulder. “See? We’ll be fine! Tonight’s going to be great. Somehow, I know it.”

Vaggi didn’t argue. She just watched Charlie, gaze roaming over her girlfriend’s beautiful, hopeful expression, stomach turning with each passing second. An old, familiar blend of affection and dread twisted inside her chest. Sighing once more, she gently pressed a kiss to Charlie’s hair and moved to gazing out the window, willing her worries to roll off her shoulders like a waterfall.

Because Charlie believed it.

And Vaggi, more than anything, wanted to believe it too.

The old manor they pulled up to had certainly seen better days — if said better days included a hurricane, two divorces, and maybe a demonic possession or two. It loomed on a hill in the middle of a long-dead forest, sticking out like a badly peeling sore thumb against the midnight sky. Between the sagging porch, the shattered windows, the boarded up hole on the east side, and the clearly caved-in portions of the roof, there was no doubt in any of their minds that if one looked up “desolate” in the dictionary, a picture of this place would be depicted… right next to a detailed copy of Lucifer’s childhood growth chart.

Perfect.

Alastor stepped out of the van before Lucifer could even turn off the engine, allowing the cool night air to wrap around him. He tucked his hands in his pockets, gaze roaming over the manor. Behind him, Charlie bounded out of the van as well, clutching the red pleather backpack he’d given to her for her last birthday to her chest.

“So, uh, can someone tell me what we’re doing here again?” Lucifer asked, locking the car with a click of his keys.

“Aw, c’mon, Dad, did you forget already?” Charlie said cheerfully. “We’re here for ghosts!”

Alastor grinned. “You may be here to chase phantoms, Charlie, dear, but I am most certainly not.” Once again, his eyes wandered over the manor, taking in its soaring turrets and the innumerable wrought iron spikes that made up the dilapidated fence. “I must say, this place would fit quite well in a horror movie. Ripe for murder!”

“More like ripe for tetanus,” Vaggi grumbled as she walked up to them, hands running up and down her arms. “C’mon… before I freeze to death out here.”

The group approached the porch first, careful to step on where the wood was least rotted. Despite this, the steps still groaned under their footfalls, squeaking out a warning to turn back and never return.

Naturally, no one listened.

When they reached the large double doors, the first thing Alastor did was admire the sheer amount of tackiness that the worn oak wood exuded, despite being so rotten. Both doors were bordered by the image of a snake that curled around until finally forming an S at the bottom. Six wings spread wide split the center, three on each door. They framed a pair of half-moon handles that had likely been golden or brass years ago, but were now far too rusty to be identified as any other color.

What was the origin story of this place again? The four of them had been to so many haunted manors by this point they’d started to blur together. Alastor paused, quickly going through the file in his mind before finally stumbling upon… half an explanation. The previous owner of this place disappeared about seventy years ago, leaving it to no one. Supposedly, it had simply lain forgotten for all this time, out of sight and mind to just about everyone until young Charlie Magne had stumbled upon its description in one of her mother’s journals just one week ago. Strangely enough, there was almost nothing about it on the internet or in the local town library.

Even stranger still, not one single person attempted to purchase the land during those seventy years.

A cloud of dust leaped into the air the moment the door creaked open, weighing down their lungs and pulling coughs from their throats. Four sets of footsteps echoed across the gritty linoleum floor. As they walked, Alastor glanced around at the rusted railings of what had once likely been shining balconies. They lined the enormous room on all sides, standing neatly until they tapered into a pair of grand staircases near the back of the room.

When Charlie and Lucifer turned on their flashlights, the foyer seemed to swallow the beams whole. Alastor watched as the brilliant circles of light moved over peeling wallpaper and ornate brass sconces before moving over the remains of a large table of some sort, then over a dilapidated structure that looked suspiciously like a bar. Eventually, the flashlights scanned to the delicate, cobwebbed chandeliers hanging from above. Dried debris clung to the gossamer webs, but there was no jitter of movement at all. Clearly, the spiders that had woven these things had left this world a long, long time ago.

“Wow, this place is…” Lucifer began, stepping forward. He turned his head, flinching slightly when one of the sconces fell off the wall and clattered rather loudly to the floor. “...Uh-huh… it’s got—”

“Character!” Charlie finished, practically vibrating in her giddiness. “So, so, so much character! It’s incredible. It’s the perfect spot for all the improvements I made to the ritual!” She was already slinging her backpack off of her shoulder and rummaging through it, releasing a strange mixture of myrrh, hawthorn, and honeysuckle into the air. “We just need to find a big room so I can lay out the candles and—”

“Traps?” Alastor asked helpfully. “Shall I bring in the parachute cord, then? We’re bound to have quite a spirited discussion if we can just tie one down.”

Lucifer just sent him a deadpan look. “Seriously? You’re already going there and the big bad manor ghost or whatever hasn’t even shown itself yet.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re joking.”

“I assure you, I never kid when it comes to traps.”

“That’s the problem.”

Now it was Vaggi’s and Alastor’s turn to click on their flashlights. Four brilliant beams sliced through the gloom as they fanned out and quickly swept the area for anything that might murder them before the ghosts did. Alastor kept an eye out for potential rigging points, structural weaknesses, and of course, anywhere he could hide a projector for some real ghostly fun. Much to Alastor’s delight, it quickly became obvious to him that if he so wished, he could turn this entire manor into a symphony of delightful hazards.

A shame they were merely here for ghosts.

Eventually, they found themselves in a room that was clearly meant to be the manor’s library: vaulted ceilings with rows and rows of shelves laden with volumes likely older than time itself, all caked under a layer of dust so thick it was impossible to make out any titles. The sheer mustiness of the place made Alastor’s eyes water.

At the far end of the room sat a large, ornate mirror with flaming motifs carved all around the frame. Unlike everything else in the room, this thing was perfectly polished and pristine, without a single speck of rust or decay on it. Alastor eyed it curiously as he entered, only to immediately hiss under his breath when someone’s flashlight beam hit the mirror and bounced directly into his eyes.

Lovely. He had a headache now. He knew he should have taken something before stepping into this dust pit of a room.

“This is it,” Charlie gasped as she entered, periwinkle eyes sparkling when she eyed the large table at the center of the room. “We can do the ritual here!”

She ran over to the table before anyone could stop her -– not like they were going to anyway. Once this living, breathing ray of sunshine got an idea in her lovely little head, it was near impossible to sway her from it. Vaggi began lighting the ancient candles around the room while Charlie unpacked her growing collection of ghost summoning ritual essentials: candles, several different herbs, an old EMF reader, and of course, the Cat’s Eye, which she set reverently at the table’s center.

Meanwhile, Alastor clicked off his flashlight and wandered to the mirror, taking the time to adjust his tie. Once it was immaculate, he offered a small grin to his reflection, only for it to falter as the shadows behind him in the glass began to lengthen. They slithered across the warped floorboards, stretching into tapering limbs, curling and uncurling like inky tentacles reaching for him at the edges of the room. Heart hammering, Alastor whipped his head over his shoulder.

Nothing.

He faced the mirror again, brow furrowing lightly. The shadows were now perfectly, well, mirrored. Nothing strange or slithering or inky about them. Odd… perhaps a trick of light. Or maybe all those years of snacking on odd bits and bobs were finally catching up to him.

His gaze drifted back to the reflection — or more specifically, to the corner where Lucifer stood. Amber eyes softened as he watched pale fingers glide across the shelf, carving trails through a century’s worth of dust. Lucifer paused, picked up a book from its shelf, then blew across its cover. Dust spiraled away, revealing a deep crimson tome traced with gold filigree that shimmered faintly in the candlelight.

Should he allow his husband a moment of quiet to admire the find? Perhaps.

Was he going to? No.

Did he feel the absolute need to be near Lucifer regardless? Most definitely.

Without a sound, Alastor slipped away from the mirror. He glided over with soft footfalls just as Lucifer flipped the book open and squinted at the illustrations inside. Rose-petal lips parted to make some remark to the room — likely a comment about some cute ducks depicted in the book’s pages. Thankfully, Alastor reached him first.

“BOO!”

Lucifer yelped and jumped a few feet into the air, before whirling on him with a vicious snarl.

“Al! What the fuck!?”

Unable to help himself, Alastor collapsed into laughter. He threw back his head, eyes going in two different directions, chest heaving. Behind him, the girls continued conversing, long used to his antics by now.

“Oh, don’t look so put out, Lu,” Alastor said once his mirth finally died down. “I simply saw an opportunity to entertain myself with a very pretty toy and just had to take it.”

Lucifer’s cheeks flushed a lovely mauve. “You—”

“Oh, hush now,” Alastor said, pressing one finger to those plush lips he knew so well. His gaze shifted over to the book. “Care to explain what caught your eye?”

Lucifer huffed but held the book up, cheeks still aflame. “Not sure. Looks like a fairy tale.”

“A child’s book, then?” Alastor asked, scanning the art. Hand-painted illustrations depicted a winged being offering an apple to a woman beneath a blooming tree. “How fitting! Whoever stocked this library clearly knew what they were doing. Always a good thing to put children’s books at children’s height!”

That won him a glare. “If you don’t shut up in the next two seconds, I’m burying you under a floorboard.”

“Ohoho! I see what you’re trying to do. Making yourself taller by standing on top of me? Ingenious! You’ll be winning Nobel Prizes in no time!”

Lucifer once again glared at him, but it was ruined by the fond smile dawning upon his features. With a small huff, he turned back to the page and turned it.

Ah, this was indeed a fairytale of sorts. It depicted the story of how Lilith, the First Woman, and her lover, the Morning Star, both sought to grant humanity free will. By giving Eve the Fruit of Knowledge, however, they had unleashed evil upon the world. As the story progressed, the art grew darker. Eventually, they turned to a painting of Lilith and the Morning Star clutching each other as they were cast into darkness.

A sharp, twisting ache bloomed deep in Alastor’s chest at the sight. Irritation and sorrow flashed within him in tandem. He scowled inwardly at it, though it refused to fade. So, too, did his headache. If anything, both of them grew even more obnoxiously painful.

“‘As punishment for their reckless act, Heaven cast Lucifer and his love into the dark pit he had created…’” Lucifer read aloud. Despite the casual tone of voice he used, his brow furrowed just a touch while he read. “‘...never allowing him to see the good that came from humanity. Only the cruel… and the wicked.’”

His voice cracked at the end of the sentence. Alastor cast him a sidelong glance.

Lucifer didn’t seem to be looking at the page any longer. His gaze had gone distant, a strange hurt flickering behind his eyes. His jaw was tight, his shoulders tensed, knuckles white where they gripped the book’s edge.

Alastor… didn’t like that. He didn’t like that one bit.

“...Starlight? Something the matter?”

A pause. A hard swallow. A wide, joking smile forced upon a face that had done that very thing far, far too many times. Then, finally, a shake of his head.

“No. It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Lucifer was a very good liar — unfortunately, Alastor had been married to him for far too long.

The tome closed with a final snap. Lucifer placed it back on the shelf, expression hard. Despite this, his fingers trailed along the spine a touch longer than they should have. Only when he finally managed to tear his gaze away from the book did he turn back to face Alastor and reached out.

Their fingers closed around each other in a warm, grounding beat. For a moment, the world righted itself again. The pain in Alastor’s chest and head decrescendoed to a dull throb instead — an ember, rather than a flame. Lucifer smiled up at him and gave his hand a squeeze, though whether it was in apology or reassurance, Alastor wasn’t sure. He just knew that the only proper way to answer such a thing was to squeeze back.

A moment later, Charlie’s bright voice cut through the library’s dimness.

“Dads! Vaggi! I’m ready!”

Naturally, the exact thing one needed to do in the middle of a likely haunted, definitely decaying manor was to summon a ghost and speak with it. Why? Because Charlie had decided that Mystery Incorporated’s newest venture was to “help restless spirits find peace.” And, of course, her heart was stubborn enough to drag the rest of them along with it.

The four of them joined her at the table. She had set up candles at several points around it, and had set the EMF reader so it was resting at her elbow. The Cat’s Eye gem gleamed gold at the center, its sliver of red seeming to pulse like a heartbeat in the uncertain light.

While Charlie continued to set up the final details of the ritual, Alastor took a moment to stare directly at the Cat’s Eye gem. From the moment they saw it just sitting on display at the museum, all four of them knew it was exactly what they needed. Based on what Alastor and Charlie had gathered, the gem had previously belonged to the owner of this house and was said to contain a key that would unravel the greatest mysteries connected to the manor. What mysteries were these? None of them were quite sure — but what sort of mystery-solving organization were they if they didn’t immediately jump at the chance to solve one?

As a final touch to the ritual, Charlie placed a rather odd sheet of paper on the table: a simple drawing not unlike that a child might draw. It depicted four figures surrounding what looked like a black cat. Each of them held an object of some sort. But before Alastor could take a good look at it, Charlie was already clapping her hands together, drawing his attention away.

“Okay, so Mom’s note says that to do the ritual right, we need to offer up something meaningful to the spirit—”

Lucifer raised a hand. Alastor had to repress the barb on the tip of his tongue of how much he looked like a child in a classroom doing that. He was successful. Mostly. A snicker still escaped him.

“Yeah, Dad?”

“We can probably find a bedroom somewhere and grab the sheet off the bed. Ghosts love sheets.”

Charlie blinked, then shook her head with a chuckle. “That’s… I mean, you’re probably not wrong! But no, I don’t think sheets are sentimental enough—”

“Perhaps we could offer up a blood sacrifice, then?” Alastor asked. When three pairs of eyes turned to look at him in both confusion and annoyance, he shrugged. “Blood can be quite sentimental.”

“Uh, no? Who says that?” Lucifer groaned.

“I did. Lots of my favorite memories are tied to blood!”

“Your period doesn’t count, Al.”

Alastor raised an eyebrow at him. Of all the idiotic things Lucifer had said tonight — and the list was long, if Alastor dared say so himself — that one somehow managed to be the most impossible of them all. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, deciding it was far better to allow the two young women to marinate in the confusion they both clearly had written all over their faces.

“I assure you,” he said pleasantly, “that if I were capable of such a thing, you’d never hear the end of it.”

“Anyways!” Charlie said firmly, clearly trying to herd them back in line. She gestured to the drawing on the table. “I don’t think we need a sheet or blood or anything like that. Mom said the offering needs to mean something to the ghost, so… I found this in one of the books. If the old house owner was keeping it around, it must’ve been important! And—“

“We need to stay respectful,” Alastor drawled. When all eyes turned to him in surprise, his smirk widened. “Don’t look so shocked. I needed something to read on the loo and Charlie’s notebook was rather conveniently placed—“

Lucifer’s eye twitched. Vaggi gagged. Charlie took a moment to look utterly horrified before quickly doing the Sign of the Cross and clearing her throat.

“And… yes, Alastor. We need to stay respectful. Don’t freak out if anything weird happens.”

Lucifer snorted softly. “Hate to say it, kiddo, but something weird always happens with us.”

Vaggi, clearly regretting her life choices once again, just let out the most put-upon ugh she’d made in about a week.

Once she was sure that everyone was holding hands and that no one had managed to sneak any unnecessary items to enhance the delightfully phantasmal atmosphere, Charlie began the ritual. Her voice wove softly around the library, curling around the sconces and gently disturbing the dust like the light touch of a breeze.

“We call upon you, voices of the afterlife… we wish to help you!”

Nothing happened. Charlie blinked, then furrowed her brow. She released Vaggi’s and Lucifer’s hands to rustle through her backpack. Seconds later, she tossed a few additional handfuls of willow leaves onto the table before taking their hands again. Her voice, when it came again, was strained just a little at the edges.

“We call upon you, voices of the afterlife. We wish to speak with you and help you move on!”

Again, nothing. Charlie once again dug around in her backpack until she pulled out a small, tattered notebook with a black and white kitten on the front. Alastor recognized it immediately: Charlie’s notes of her mother’s notes. An abridged take on an already abridged set of instructions meant to summon and exorcise spirits. She flipped it open, scanned over the pages, then bit her bottom lip.

“Maybe I need more sage or something,” she muttered, quickly scanning the pages. After a few minutes of flipping and nonsensical muttering, she placed down her notepad and inhaled sharply through her nose.

“Mom says here that all rituals need music…” she murmured. “Okay… I can do that!” She put away the notebook, then took her father’s and Vaggi’s hands once again. “Sorry about that. I’ll get it right this time!” With that, she exhaled before closing her eyes.

“Come on, Spirit, you're far from shameful

Just misunderstood

You can be good for good!”

Before she could sing another note, the candles sputtered out. A draft skittered across the floor. The Cat’s Eye began to glow a brilliant, gaudy gold. Alastor nearly jumped as cold, invisible fingers tightened around his throat. An ancient, insisting thread tugged at his gut, forcing his gaze up past Charlie’s shoulder towards—

The mirror.

Its surface was fluid now, twisting and warping like silvery water. A small ripple coursed across it. In an instant, the blurry form of Alastor’s silhouette disappeared, leaving behind nothing but a deep black void. A ghastly grin stretched across the dark expanse where its face would be, crisscrossed with brilliant green lines. Two more lines slashed their way across its forehead, forming a pulsing X.

Alastor froze at the sight. Horror rose like bile in his chest. The thing in the mirror tilted its head with a resounding crack. A storm of static thrashed in his ears, swelling to a fevered crescendo.

And all through that, Charlie’s voice rose.

“All you skeptics, pay close attention

We'll speedrun from here to redemption!”

Did none of them see what Alastor was seeing? Did they not feel what he felt? Did they not hear what he was hearing?

The house groaned. Dust rained down from above in a thin, trembling mist. Outside, thunder bellowed and lightning split the sky. Rain slammed into the window panes out of nowhere, the window glass rattling as everyone jolted in their seats.

But then, just as quickly as it had happened, everything became normal again. The candles relit themselves. The draft disappeared. The Cat’s Eye dulled. The strange shadow with the grisly smile disappeared.

Alastor blinked in shock, suddenly able to tear his gaze away from the mirror. What had just happened? Had all of that just been some horrible collective hallucination? He blinked, took off his glasses, cleaned them, then put them back on. A perfectly normal mirror stared back at him.

Yes… just a trick of light. Or, if the gnawing in his stomach were any indication, a sign of that he desperately needed a snack.

Silence fell over the group. Charlie looked around, expression filled with excitement. When nothing else distinctly haunted happened, she resorted to calling out to the spirit she summoned, utilizing just about every possible tool in her belt from a list of old-fashioned names to bird calls. When no spirit answered, her face fell.

“I—” Her voice cracked softly, heavy with disappointment. “I guess—I… messed it up.”

The words seemed to dissolve in the air, disappearing into the surrounding dusty hush. Vaggi bit her bottom lip and looked to the side, clearly torn between comforting Charlie and uttering a dreaded “I told you so.” On her other side, Lucifer rubbed slow circles into the back of Charlie’s hand. His expression was gentle, though there was a faint trembling tightness around his mouth. Alastor found himself watching the slow, soothing movements of Lucifer’s thumb, trying perhaps a touch desperately to look at anything but the mirror again.

For several long moments, no one spoke. Even the whisper of the wind outside went silent.

Then, Lucifer straightened, expression snapping into the sort of earnestness that perfectly mirrored Charlie whenever she got a bizarre idea in that creative head of hers. “Well, I mean, can’t win ‘em all, kiddo. You know how these spirits can get. Gotta follow this etiquette and that rule, and they’re all different depending on the ghost making them. You’d think by now they’d all write down some kind of universal standard or something.”

When Charlie didn’t smile, he pressed onwards, smile going rueful. “Hey… c’mon, little lady. Don’t beat yourself up. It’s not your fault ghosts are assholes.” He pushed himself to his feet, gesturing broadly at the walls around them. “How ‘bout we split up and look around? We drove all this way. Might as well case the place and really make sure we don’t have to come back. Who knows, maybe we’ll even find your ghost somewhere!”

That seemed to perk the girl up, if the sheer amount of hope flickering in her eye was any indication. “Oh, Dad, can we?”

“Abso-tively posi-lutely!” Lucifer crowed. “Worst thing here’s probably asbestos, and we’re already breathing that in so we’re just ahead of the game, sweetheart!”

Vaggi shot him a flat, thoroughly unimpressed look, but the joke had worked. Charlie brightened instantly, brushing dust off her pants as she got to her feet. “Okay! Yeah… yeah! Yeah, let’s split up and search for clues!”

“Hold up,” Vaggi interjected. “Are we sure we wanna split up? This place is huge. We could get lost and end up wandering around until dawn.”

Lucifer waved a hand. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Vivi! We’ll go in pairs. You two, and…” His gaze shifted to Alastor. “Him and me. That way, only half the house’ll get destroyed.”

Normally, Alastor would’ve made a comment — likely something about how half the house was the absolute bare minimum of the destruction he was capable of. But no such comment came to him. His tongue was far too heavy for that, his thoughts still snagged on the mirror before him.

He looked up at it. The mirror reflected nothing but the dust and wood of the library now, plus his own silhouette. As perfectly innocent as just about any mirror could be. Despite this, unease prickled just underneath his skin. A chill ran down his spine unbidden.

“Anyways!” Lucifer clapped his hands. “We should get moving. You kids go have fun. I’ll make sure Al doesn’t eat anything too weird.”

That was all the encouragement Charlie needed. With a small giggle, she looped her arm through Vaggi’s. “What’re we waiting for, baby? Let’s go! We’ll stick together like… like sprinkles on a cupcake!”

Vaggi gave her a small, indulgent smile. “Yeah… yeah, alright, let’s go.”

With that, the two girls drifted out of the library. Lucifer stood there a moment, watching them go, before turning to face Alastor.

“...Al?”

The name bounced around his skull, but Alastor barely registered it. He stood, rooted to the ground, unable to look away from the mirror. The lingering chill from earlier still curled around his throat, the ghost of a noose that hadn’t yet tightened. He continued to stare at his reflection, amber eyes searching, trying to find something — anything — to explain what he had seen earlier.

But there was nothing. Just him. Just a man looking back at him from under silver-rimmed glasses, not fully dressed from the lack of smile.

Nothing that a snack wouldn’t fix.

“Hey, Al? Alastor? C’mon, sweetheart. I need you here with me, not in spooky mirror town.”

Alastor blinked. He looked down and met Lucifer’s worried sky-blues. He inhaled slowly, taking in the scent of fallen leaves and ripe apples that had always clung to the other man’s form. Then, he let out a deep, shuddering exhale.

“My apologies,” he murmured, reaching out and lacing their fingers together. Their gold bands glinted in the light as he pressed his forehead against Lucifer’s. “I was… distracted.”

Lucifer eyed him for a long moment. Concern softened the lines of his face. “...Do you want to talk about it?”

A pause.

“...I’m not quite sure what there is to talk about,” Alastor admitted. “I’ll need to think on that.”

Lucifer chuckled. “Alright then… how ‘bout we think while we walk?”

At that, Alastor managed a smile. “Fair enough. Lead on, Starlight.”

Lucifer grinned, shook his head, and nudged him towards the door. Together, they stepped into the dim hallway beyond.