Introductions are very important. They only happen once after all.

There is a long moment of quiet after the little lady spoke, in her formally curt tone of voice, to the Being she had concocted. Now, she merely has to wait for it to reply. The Being peers down at her with its big peculiar eyes, ribbons of its substance waving around its paper body. This close, it looks like a child's ghost costume.

Everything is so still.

Lenore thinks privately to herself as she stands there waiting for a reply, “So this is what my project concocted? This ethereal being… It is in some measure myself created anew. But it is also someone else. But who could they be? How did they become entwined in my work? I never thought I’d see something like this. Certainly not in person. Least of all being the one to cause such a phenomenon in the first place. Two halves creating a new whole. Who knows what this could mean. The power it could poses. The possibilities… What profound things it could be thinking right now!”

Wow… You’re so tiny!

Expectations very rarely live up to reality.

Her thoughts halt in their tracks.

“Excuse me?” Lenore gawks up at the Being. She raises an offended hand to her chest in shock. The Being, however, seems to be smiling now, the slit under its big eyes spreading wide around its… head?

Her creation whorls around Lenore like an overexcited puppy chasing its own tail forcing the little lady to spin around and around trying to keep an eye on it. The Being jabbers on like a perky preschooler.

Are you a kid?

Lenore twirls in one direction and the Being swirls in the other direction. “Hardly! I am a full-grown adult--!”

But how? Adults are big and you’re like a mouse!

Lenore sputters indignantly. “A mouse!? I beg your pardon-!”

I guess you are in that fancy suit though... It spins back to look at the front of her tailcoat. Lenore follows it in vain, her face growing redder and redder. You have a tie thingy too!

“It's called a neckerchief. Now would you please-!”

Oh! Are you a dwarf then-?

“Enough!” Lenore is nearly seething as the being finally stills. She wavers a little, dizzy from all the spinning. Her hair is on ends and frizzy. All in all, she resembles a startled tabby kitten.

“I am not a dwarf. Not that there is anything wrong with being a dwarf. I’m not a dwarf.” She huffs, tightening her neckerchief and smoothing back her hair. The Being’s smile does not die at the little lady's cross intonation. Being the brightest light in the room, its smile is like a thousand watt light bulb. “The fact that I am not six feet tall does not mean that I am not an adult.”

They’re staring at each other once again, Lenore looking up and the Being looking down, but their gazes are vastly different. Lenore studies the Being. It bobs back and forth like a water buoy, innocently smiling its creepily wide smile. Stupidly, naively, incredibly innocent. Perhaps there wasn’t much of herself in this thing after all.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Well? Are you going to answer my question?” She says, crossing her arms.

It cocks its head to the side, confused.

Did you ask a question? Sorry... It grins sheepishly, I guess I got a little excited. You're the first person I met who could hear me and you’re not as scary.

“Right,” Lenore barely resists the urge to roll her eyes. “As I have already said; Hello. I am Lenore Laymon. And you are?” She gestures toward the Being with a condescending smile of her own.

The Beings smile fades slightly, piquing Lenore’s interest. The blue glow it was surrounded in dimmed and it seemed to shrink into itself. It looked taken back at her question.

I’m, um, I’m not sure. It's a little hard to remember.

“Is it? All right. Tell me, what do you remember?”

The Being shuffles side to side as it ‘speaks’ to her. Its mouth does not move but Lenore hears its words clear as day. Its voice is airy. Echoing in the back of her head as if its words are her own thought.

Um, I remember a little room. It was really messy! I tried to clean it but I don’t have any… hands or arms so… I think I had arms before but I don’t remember when. But I don't really remember anything specific from before the little room. Was it your room?

“Yes. I was working on a project--”

Is everything you have so little?

Lenore shot it a rather icy glare.

Sorry. It doesn’t sound sorry with its sing-song timbre.

She sighs, “I was working on a project—a spell as some would call it—when it seemed to fail. I believe you were manifested from that spell-”

A spell!? Now it is back to its overexcited rambling. Great. You mean like magic and stuff? Is what all those books and tools were for? And that enormous pot!?

“Bloody help me....” The little lady groans, head in her hands. The Being kept on rambling and jabbering, undeterred by Lenore icy disposition. “I am getting nowhere with this thing, am I?” Through her fingers, Lenore peeps up at it. It's floating in circles above her head like a drunken bird. It won’t stop talking.

She feels a headache coming. She walks away and leans against the closest wall separating the stage from the rows of seats. Maybe if she wais long enough it will shut up on its own. Hopefully.

--Are you a witch? Or is that rude, like a slur or something? Do you prefer being called a wizard or a sorcerer or maybe a--

Sighing, Lenore let her head tip back, smacking against the concrete. Of all the things she had been expecting, this - a floating, jabbering curtain with an attention span so short a sneeze would last longer - had not been it. She’s tired just from watching it. Although, admittedly, the little sleep she had been getting was probably the major cause of that.

--What kind of spells do you do? Can you turn frogs into flowers or make people disappear? Oh! Could you summon ghouls or demons with that big pot--

It’s like a child, blabbering on and on with stupid question after stupid question…

“Like a child?” Her eyes widen. She bits her lip as the idea comes to her, stomach lurching.

“No, it isn’t possible..” She stands and begins to pace becak and forth. “How would a child have even come in contact with my room? How would anyone? It's completely inaccessible--”

To anyone else, the room would be dead silent but for the faint sizzle of the lanterns above them. Dark and chilly, only the barest outline of the two figures are visible as they fumble around like raving lunatics. Frankly, they look rather ridiculous raving around like they are.

--Are there others here like you too? Is that what this place is for? Is it your fortress or castle or--

“--The ingredients they brought me… Odell said the deliverer was new. But then how could they have come to possess--”

The Being flutters around the room as carefree as a butterfly that had recently been smacked one too many times with a fly swatter.

--Is that why I’m here? Am I a new helper you’ve summoned? Oh! Or am I an ingredient like the kids from that fairy tale with the candy house--

Lenore is as panicky as a rabies-ridden squirrel. One minute she is biting at her nails, the next she is tugging at her hair, and the next after that she is cool and calm. She is a bundle of emotions overcrowd in one little stressed out ball of middle-aged angst.

They go on like this for a little while. After a few minutes, though, the Being stops. The little lady doesn’t.

“--There is no of samples left so I cannot study them to find their source. I will have to investigate the old-fashioned way--”

The Being is looking up at the lanterns again, apparently having become distracted from its magic focused blathering. It is enraptured by the silvery lights, like stars in a midnight sky or pearls in the deepest recesses of the ocean.

… Miss Laymon?

This stops the little lady mid-thought. It had been many minutes since the Being had addressed her specifically. She turns to answer her creation. The change in temperament is… startling.

“Yes?”

The Being drifts down to Lenore, floating by her side. Its eyes don’t stray from the glittering ceiling.

What are those things up there?

Lenore looks up at the lanterns. They covered the dome of the ceiling, each one only a little speck in the grand landscape. Clearing her throat, Lenore answers.

“Those are lanterns. Around a hundred of them are suspended from fire-resistant wire ropes hanging from the ceiling.”

Hmm... It hums in understanding, innocently happy as expected. Although Lenore finds its rambling annoying, when it is quiet as it is now she has to admit it is a comforting presence unlike any other she had ever met. It’s unsettling how comfortably familiar the Being feels.

They’re pretty.

“I would hope so.”

You made them? It turns to her, curious but not surprised.

“Yes, I did.”

The Being looks wistful.

… You also made me, didn’t you?

Lenore’s warm hazel eyes meet its ethereal blue as if they could keep staring at each other forever, so fascinated they are with each other's existence. She shakes her head wordlessly.

You didn’t? But then how am I…

Lenore pulls a vial out of her pocket, holding it up to so the Being can see the blood sluggishly sloshed within the glass. She opens the vial and her blood slithers out.

“Everything has limits. We can push, challenge, or foster them, but we cannot erase them. People have limits too.” Soon the blood is wriggling like ribbons around the little lady, not unlike the way the Beings blue and red wriggled around them.

“You can transform things.” Her blood forms shapes in the air. A smile brightens the Being's face as the blood transforms into a parade of mini marching elephants. Behind the elephants, tiny monkeys swing in invisible trees. Monkeys dressed as clowns with little horn, or little dresses and suits. Little people dance behind the monkeys; mimes with their little berets, ballet dancers in their tights and tutus, and the lion tamers riding on the backs of their fearsome cats. Drummers drum and dancers dance to a silent tune.

A mini circus of oddities. Crimson watery figures that wallow and dribble like melting wax, they look like they could melt away at any second. The faint whiffs of iron in the room intensifies. They parade in pace with each weave of the little lady’s hands. Lenore is their ringmaster, waving her hands like the conductor of a great opera.

The Being is ecstatic, laughing gaily without a care in the world.

“You can control things.” Stopping the parade midair she points up at the lanterns and with a snap of her fingers, crisp and clear, the lanterns go out all at once. The Being yelps in surprise.

What--? Lenore shushes her creation.

She snaps her fingers again and half the lanterns relighted. Looking out of the corner of her eye, she shoots the Being a smirk.

With a sharp flick of her wrists, the lanterns twinkle. Hundreds of them going out and relighting like flashing fireflies or volcanoes erupting and cooling in patterns. The flames rise massive and bright then dimming into faintly orange coals. The parade marches higher and higher, all the way up to the lanterns. They walk to a waltzing beat. One, two, three; one, two, three; one, two, three. Over and over, slow but bombastic.

The room growing is warmer. Bright reds and oranges not overpowering the ethereal blue but blending with it, spreading rays of violet and rose.

With a laugh, the Being soars around the room gleefully. It twists through the fiery sea of lanterns, flying close to the coals but zooming away when the flames blaze again. It twirls around the bloody parade, smiling at the dancers and laughing at the monkeys. Lenore almost doesn’t want to stop. But, alas, she does.

“... But you cannot truly create things.” The parade melts as Lenore draws her blood back into the vial. The lanterns steady, the blazes of fire simmering down to a gentle, sober flame.

The Being freezes at the woman's sombre tone, laughter dying and blue light dimming. Looking down from the ceiling, the Being watches her lower her hands and rub at her temples. It slowly sinks down to the ground as she finishes her speech.

“‘Magic’ cannot make people because ‘magic’ isn’t magical. It takes planning and effort and even then you can’t make something from nothing. You can only change things that are already there.” She sighs, feeling the faint wind of the Being as it meets the ground. “I don’t know who you were. I just changed you from what you used to be. Accidentally.”

Silence. Dead air.

“I am sorry-”

So what now? The Being cuts her off. Lenore’s jaw clenches. The pale Being’s eyes are so wide.

“What now…?” She thinks, her head still down. She catches sight of something resting on her hip. Her hag mask. Letting her finger trace its polished glass face, she gazes up at her creature.

“I have a friend I think you should meet.”

~*~

The city is silent but the winding avenue roads are not clear of life. Around the courtyard outside the Theatre’s civilian entrance, people bustle to and fro all of them harried and unhappy. There is no one on a cheery morning walk or a happy stroll through the neighbourhood greeting the people and the day with bright smiles and laughter. From where these people stood, only a fool would find a noise such as laughter or any other gaily sound to be a comfort.

As Lenore pries open the back entryway at the southern end of the townhouse, she did so as quietly as possible. The rotten wood of the door is rancid, and the humidity made it all the more noxious. She holds her breath as mold and dust rain down on her from the top of the doorway.

A filthy alleyway of rat-infested dumpsters and the remains of emptied chamber pots. The poorest homes have no working plumbing. Despite all that, Lenore finds her present environment rather mundane. She travels this route often, on those rare occasions when she actually leaves her room. Those very rare occasions. Checking the alley for any people she already knows won’t be there, she thinks out a message to the Being still hidden within the decaying doorway.

“All right, let's get moving before the day gets any later.” She gestures for it to follow her.

The Being is covered with heavy wool cape and hood that Lenore had haphazardly thrown over its form. It bumbles its way outside, tumbling side to side trying to find its balance.

Um, do I really have to wear this the whole trip? It’s really heavy…

“It would be best not to cause a scene and as,” Lenore watches stoically as the Being tips backward suddenly, nearly falling into a putrid-smelling garbage can. She rolls her eyes. “used to your particular brand of unusualness I have gotten, I doubt others would feel the same. Stay low to the ground, it won’t do for anyone to see you floating above the ground. It will also bee easier for you to keep yourself steady. And no matter what, stay quiet.”

She turns and strides away, travelling briskly and untethered by her far lighter disguise. A buttoned-up blouse and loose brown trousers. She’s wearing a different mask. Eyes a forget-me-knot blue with long pretty lashes and big brown curls. The face of a doll-like little girl. Hopefully, they won’t run into anyone at all. Of the do, perhaps the Being could be passed off for her lame grandparent.

The Being shadows her. The little doll-like girl followed by the mountain-sized hunchback. The little girl and her monster. At first glance.

They walk silently, internally and externally. From one dirty alleyway to another, batting away flies and tiptoeing over rats the size of little dogs. The rats have eyes like crimson marbles. They stare up at them, unblinking, till the two of them get too close enough. The rats to snap at their feet and scurry away into the heaps of garbage or the cracks in the alley walls.

So... The Being says, levitating as low to the ground as it can, the ends of the cape scraping against the alley floor.

“So?” The little lady doesn’t turn around. She feels its uncertainty deep in her chest. Its curiosity burning in her throat, so innocent that it felt like bile at the back of her mouth.

Where are we going again?

“I told you, I am taking you to a friend.” She takes a sharp turn to the left. A dead end.

Okay… Why?

“They should be able to help you.” The wall at the dead-end has a ripped tarp nailed into the stone. Lenore ducks past it. A secret entrance into the desolate building.

Okay, It pushes against the tarp, almost tearing it off the wall as it squeezes inside with a loud fwap. You’re not really telling me anything new. How is--?

Lenore wrenches around. The mask looks like a grumpy baby doll; her mouth under turned like an upside-down V. Despite itself, the Being has to bite down a grin.

“Be. Quiet.” Her teeth are clenched tight. Even in her head, the words were seethed in a way that was daring the Being to challenge her. It smiles at her anyway.

Sorry, I’m just curious.

“Clearly,” She scoffs. It’s a good thing no one could hear the Being speak but her. Still, with its clumsiness, it creates quite a ruckus nonetheless. If they were caught making noise out here…

“All right, fine.” She huffs, “You can ask me three more questions. I will give as much detail as your heart contents. After that, silence.”

Only three? It senses her growing annoyance. It doesn’t feel all too bad about it.

“Yes...” Lenore smothers down a smirk when the lie comes to her. “It is a magical number.”

Lenore hears a faint, curious gasp in the back of her head. “You know, three wishes, three knocks, three witches.” She counts them off with her fingers. “I can never lie when there are three.”

It buys the lie with unparalleled enthusiasm. Assured that her creation is as under control as it can be, the little lady leads them across the dusty floors towards the pass-through door between the townhouses. The abandoned buildings in this area are dead; the air is stale, and the interior is a colorless, sickly grey. Like an old black and white film that the Beings natural glow doesn’t fit into.

The Being is thinking over its three ‘magic’ questions. Momentarily forgetting to lie low, it floats, dodging webs and fallen beams that dangle loosely from the ceiling. One misstep could send the entire upper floor crashing down onto their heads. Good thing Lenore knows this area like she knows her Theatre.

I got it! The Being flies up beside her creating a gust of wind, sending the dust up like a fog. What’s your job?

Huh… Not quite the kind of question she was expecting...

“Really? This is the first question?” She raises an eyebrow as she opens the door separating this home from the other. Most of the door is off its hinge and the next home was indistinguishable from the last.

Well, yeah! It beams down at her; You did all that magic stuff before we left, right? And you live in a theatre. Do you perform or work backstage or something?

“No.” She waves a flippant hand. “I... Well, I don't have a job per se. I maintain the Theatre and as such, I am able to inhabit it.”

So you’re not paid at all? Why not? The Being inquires, sounding genuinely interested.

“Is that your second question?”

Hey! You said I could ask for more detail! She smirks a little at the obvious pout in the Being's voice.

“Fine, fine. Let’s just say, I am not welcome in this city. Finding a normal, paying job is not a priority for me, I have other things to be worrying about.” Lenore runs a hand through her false hair uncomfortably. The Being feels a tingle, a shiver that made its sapphire light pull back and the ruby essence at its core flare. Like a burst of flame in a newborn campfire, it feeds on the thin threads of passion that the Being senses from the little lady. It cools soon after.

They reach the next townhouse door. Stepping through the little lady wants to curse. The floorboards had given out, leaving a long hole of jagged wood and metal beams sticking up like spears.

Can I help? The Being tries to float over the cave-in but its cape weighs it down. The little lady yanks it back before it could fall in.

“Not with your cape on.” Lenore studies where the walls met the floorboards. In the corners, there are spots of black and dark green, the wallpaper going brown and brittle. She notices that the collapsed floorboards in the hole are in a similar but albeit worse condition. It looks like the wood is covered in moss and lightly singed.

“Mold. Recent to.” Lenore puzzles. This hadn’t been here the last time she travelled this route. But, how long ago had that been? She sidesteps along the wall, the remaining floor under her feet no more than a half of a foot wide.

The Being gives a little shriek when the floorboards creak under her weight like a dying cat.

You’re gonna fall! It tries to float again, doing little more than rouse the dust. Hang on, I'm coming over!

“No!” Lenore holds out her palms and the Being stops warily. She scratches under her false chin, thinking. She’s too tired for any more spontaneous feats. Between Odell’s performance, that demonstration she did for the Being, and the weeks she had spent working on her project, she doesn’t have it in her to do anything too dynamic. This will have to be dealt with using brains rather than brawn.

“Can you take off your cape?” She asks.

The Being rustles it’s paper body making more fwaping noises, this doing nothing but making the hood fall back and causing the cloth to become lopsided. The tightly knotted string holding the cape together will not budge but the Being keeps trying, getting louder and louder as it shakes like a wet dog. The more it shakes, the brighter its light gets.

“Shh!” She holds a finger to her lips, and the Being stops. Unfortunately, this does nothing to stifle the blinding light that shone from under its papery skin. Rays of red and blue continue to beam. The Being illuminates the darkest spaces of room, uncovering the twitching fangs of a horde of spiders. The light blinds them and suddenly the spiders swarm in and out of the massive cave-in. Widows, weavers, and recluses charged like a disoriented army. Lenore stumbles backwards. The Being shrieks, stumbling alongside Lenore and throwing more light across the floor which only made the horde scatter faster.

“Run through the door!” The little lady commands, so startled that she shouts her words aloud rather than in her head, “Out! Out!”

They flee. The Being has the luxury of floating above the ground while Lenore has to hop over the spiders and rat carcass. The Being squeals again.

There’s one on my head! It’s on my head!

Lenore feels a scratchy itching sensation on her shoulder. Another appears on her head. Then her back. And then again on her other shoulder. She shakes and a pile of jittery black spiders fall off her body. Oh, isn’t that just perfect? Lenore glances up and sees a pack of them skittering along the ceiling. As the Being’s light lands on them, they drop to the ground. Right down on their heads.

Lenore uncorks her vial of blood. She swipes half of the blood against the floor, flicking the spiders out of her path, and uses the other half to form an umbrella over their heads. She hears the pitter-patter of the arachnids as they rain down.

The Being tumbles outside first, followed closely by Lenore. She swats the leftover spiders back into the townhouse and slams the door shut. She leans forward, hands on her knees. The Being is shaking.

… I don’t think we should go this way.

Lenore scoffs, “Oh really? Because I thought that went fantastically…”

… That was cool though…! The Being laughs, a bit breathless.

“Was it? I would call it a daunting experience of sheer terror and bewilderment personally.”

No, I mean when you were defending us from spiders! It was cool! Oh, can you teach me how to do that!?

Lenore straightens. How the Being looks, bright-eyed and hopeful. Apprehensive, she gathers her blood into her palm, picking a fuzzy spider leg out of the bodily fluid.

“I’m not much of a teacher,” She shrugs, “But, I suppose we can try a quick lesson…”

Lenore twists her wrists in a circular motion and her blood slithers between her fingers. Her blood is controlled with a steeled hand, it did not move without reason, it never wandered without permission, like the creeping of a bitter grapevine.

“Shall we begin?”

The Being beams.

Okay!

~*~

Odell wakes up. Her nose is stuffy and her limbs ache from being curled in one position for too long. Her head pounds although it’s not due to the twenty or so cups of wine from last night. Odell was one of those lucky jack’s who didn’t get hangovers. She just isn’t much of a morning person.

She shifts, stretching as she notices the distinctly wrinkled fabric of a certain someone's tailcoat draped over her torso. Cranky as she is, she has to smile. Shuffling out of her cocoon of cushions and papers, Odell notes with some disappointment that she is alone.

Sighing, she trudges out of the library to wash up. Lenore was probably back in her room and knowing her she probably had spent the entire night obsessing over that damn letter. Oh well.

“I should put mickey in her coffee when I wrestle her out for breakfast. Maybe then she’ll finally take a decent nap.” She mumbles to herself. Odell snickers as she thought of the indignant squawk of disapproval that Lenore would make when the singer comes to find her. She holds up Lenore’s neckerchief, tightly gripped in her palm. Lenore could be so difficult sometimes but eventually, she’ll burn herself out. Odell didn’t understand how she hadn’t already done so.

“I’ll be there for her when she does,” Odell thinks, “If she lets me at least.”

“Miss Averill!” Odell is startled from her thoughts when Mr. Tanner bursts into the Goldmine, “Miss Averill! Please come quickly!”

He’s a mess, wild-eyed and dishevelled. Odell could scarcely recognize the man in front of her. Bedraggled lounging robe and stuck out hair, his face was what struck her the most. He is as pale as clouded glass. She had never seen him like this.

“Mr. Tanner! Are you all right? What's wrong?” She dashes to meet him at the door frame. He gasped while she checks him over; he kept his head down like he was afraid to face her. He’s not injured. What could all this fuss be about?

“Officials!” She freezes “They’re at the door—a dozen of them—I don’t know what they want!”