Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Eric wasn't born a baker. Okay, maybe he was practically raised with a wooden spoon in his hand instead of a rattle. But that wasn't a baking thing, it just wasn't. 

Talking to pastries? Alright, he couldn't even try to deny that one. But hey, he was a talkative boy! And with his mama manning the front of the store and his father out for most of the day conducting business for the bakery, he was a little bit lonely back in their homey little kitchen. 

“Oh honey,” he might whisper while he crimped the crust of a strawberry cream pie. “Mr. Murray’s new paramour is just going to love you. Those berries I got from the market are the sweetest Market Chipping’s seen since before the drought. You are going to be irresistible .”

“Well aren't you an expensive one?” he could murmur as he carefully pulled a white chocolate truffle cake out of the big old brick oven. “I bet the mayor himself would pay big bucks for such a fancy dancy cake.”

Or even “Betsy, we have outdone ourselves this time. Look. At this. Cobbler. I swear, within a week I'll have six more orders. At least!”

And if the strawberry pie did happen to land Mr. Murray a second date, the truffle cake sold for enough to feed the Bittle family for three weeks (last minute wedding emergency the next town over) and twelve people ordered his huckleberry cobbler that first week, then Eric didn't find it at all strange. He'd always been a lucky guesser. 

“Dicky, sweetheart, can you bring the chocolate eclairs out front?” Mama Bittle’s voice wafted from the storefront. 

“Yes’m!” Eric finished filling the last one and set his icing bag aside. Hefting the tray onto his shoulder, he brought them out to the market. It was bustling with decorated soldiers, pretty ladies on their arms waiting to be treated to something sweet. His mama politely detached herself from their customers and hurried to open up the sliding door on their center display case and Eric slid the tray home with a soft grunt. 

Mama smiled at him and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Thanks, honey. You can take off now, if you want.”

Eric looked down at her, surprised. “But Mama, it's May Day! I can't leave you here all by yourself!”

She waved him off. “Dicky, I'm fine. Your daddy is on his way with that jam your aunt made and I've still got those two boys we picked up last week. Worst comes to worst I can have one of them run the register, but these eclairs will last us a good while yet. Go on, get that crumble to poor Adam. If you think the bakery gets rushed with soldiers on May Day, you should see the apothecary! Now shoo, before your daddy gets back and finds you something to do.”

Eric didn't wait around to be told twice. He hurled his apron in the hamper and hurried to get ready to go out. Taking the stairs two at a time, he went around his room above the bakery in a barely contained whirlwind. He stripped out of his flour dusted shirt and put on a clean one, a subtly loose dark green button up. His father didn't like it much, said it looked too much like a blouse. But it was May Day and it was Eric’s second nicest shirt, and his father wasn't there now, was he? Eric had just turned nineteen. He could wear what he pleased. Besides, it went quite nicely with his gray trousers. 

Humming a jaunty tune, Eric thundered back down the stairs and through the kitchen. He plucked two pies from the cooling rack and carefully wrapped them up in a basket for the journey across town. The trolleys would all be full up today, so he donned his hat to keep the sun from his eyes on the long walk to the apothecary. 

Suddenly, from a table near the windows, there came a girl’s scream. “It's the castle!”

Eric only barely jumped back in time to avoid the stampede that followed. Everyone in the bakery, even his mother, flocked to the window to peer outside. Fondly cursing the height he inherited from his parents, Eric climbed on a chair to see. 

Up in the hills, just on the edge of the Waste, a shadow lumbered through the lingering mist. A shiver ran up his spine as the name began circulating in the crowd. Wizard Jack’s enchanted moving castle.  

“You don't think he would come into town, do you?” A young woman clung to a bearded soldier’s arm, her free hand worrying at a brooch on her breast. 

“They say he comes in disguise and eats the hearts of virgins,” another girl whispered to her friend. Though it sounded ridiculous, she looked worried. “What if he comes after us?”

Mama Bittle found her composure first. She put on a smile and clapped her hands to recapture her customers' attention. “With all of these fine royal soldiers around? Impossible!” she cried. “Come on folks, how about I put a kettle on and get some tea brewing? On the house!”

A cheer rose from the crowd, and Eric caught his mama’s eye over their heads. “Go,” she mouthed to him. 

Eric waved and blew her a kiss, which she caught and put in her apron pocket. And then Eric climbed down from the chair and set out, thoughts turning to his friends. 

Adam Birkholtz and Justin Oluransi had been his friends for as long as he could remember, and best friends with each other for several of their past lives. The middle children of their families, they had each stayed with the trade for as long as their parents could afford, but now they were both apprenticing under different trade masters. Adam was training to be an apothecary, and Justin was studying magic with a local wise woman. Adam had never expressed any interest in medicine, just as Justin had never asked to learn magic. But their parents had been very clear. 

Eric didn't know how they stood it- at least Eric, as the eldest and only child, could be expected to manage the bakery like his parents before him. So he had decided earlier in the day to surprise Adam with his and Justin’s favorite pies. Justin passed the apothecary on the way home every day like clockwork, so Eric could leave both pies and save himself the trip. 

The only problem was that the whole dang city was full of people. People in the streets, people in the shops, even people flying overhead in those flashy new planes. Eric took detour after detour, finding himself in less and less familiar side streets. After nearly an hour of walking he was frustrated. The pies were getting cold, the sun was moving all too quickly across the sky, and Eric was no closer to finding his way. 

Unbidden, his thoughts turned to the unease between his own kingdom and the neighboring one to the west- he'd heard rumors about people near the border getting robbed by vigilantes. Eric gripped his basket and walked faster. 

As he struck out behind a row of pubs, thinking he saw a gap in the crowds, someone grabbed his arm and twirled him around. Eric flushed, finding himself face to chest with a very drunken soldier. 

“Hey, a little gray mouse lost its way,” the soldier slurred, bleary eyed. “Whatcha got in that basket that smells so good, mouse?”

Eric had dealt with drunkards before. But that was on his family’s property with his daddy to back him, not all alone in a crowd of hundreds. He couldn't very well toss this man out of the street. “These aren't for sale,” he managed to stammer. “I'm bringing these to my friend at the apothecary, he'll be expecting me. I'm sorry!” He took a deep breath, clutched the pies to his chest, and bolted. 

Normally in a situation like this, his height was an advantage. He could easily duck under anyone who tried to grab him. But even while intoxicated, his opponent was a trained soldier. The other man caught him around the middle just as Eric stumbled into a deserted side street. 

“Leave me alone,” Eric snapped. He shoved at the man’s arm one handed, but he couldn't do much without endangering the pies and his hand quivered too badly to force the man away. “I told you, I have to deliver these and get back to work at the bakery.”

The soldier blinked slowly at him, then stared down at his shaking arm. “You're scared,” he said, surprised. 

“Well wouldn't you be, if a man twice your height came barging at you?” Eric demanded. He finally wrung himself free of the soldier’s grip- 

-and into the solid chest of yet another man. “There you are,” a low voice rumbled at his back. “I was getting worried. These crowds, eh?”

An arm curled around Eric’s shoulders, draped in sparkling silver and blue cloth. Eric looked up and felt his heart just about clock out and turn in for the day. The man was drop dead gorgeous, with chin length blond hair and icy blue eyes, made all the more stunning by the blue in his tunic. Eric had never seen a more beautiful man in all his life. 

“I. What?” Eric breathed. He couldn't seem to form a coherent sentence. He was just so pretty . 

“Hey buddy, we were in the middle of something.” The soldier’s hand twitched toward his saber and Eric flinched. 

The stranger, however, seemed unconcerned. “Oh?” he said lightly, flashing a cold smile. “It looked to me like you were just leaving.” The hand hovering over Eric’s shoulder made a zipping and flicking motion before settling back down, heavy and reassuring. 

The soldier’s half formed insult died on his tongue. He stood to full attention, a look of shock and fear on his face, and marched away down the street. His lips were locked shut. 

The blond man sighed and cast a lazy gaze over Eric. He didn't move his arm. “Sorry about him. They aren't really all that bad, unless they’ve had too much to drink. Anyway, where to? I'll be your escort this evening.”

It took several heartbeats for Eric to remember how to speak. The stranger’s sharp jawline was extremely distracting when it was in motion. “Oh, I was just on my way to the apothecary, you don't have to-”

The man leaned down suddenly and cut him off, staring intently into Eric’s eyes. “Don't be alarmed, but I'm being followed,” he whispered. “Act natural.” Linking his arm with Eric’s, he walked. 

Eric was dragged along, one hand gripping his pies and the other clutching at the stranger’s arm. Thoughts and theories whirled through his head. Who would be following this beautiful specimen of a man? Was he famous? Was he a criminal? Oh goodness gracious, he didn't want to think about being on the arm of a criminal. But he couldn't find it in himself to argue. Whoever he was, there was someone following them and Eric knew without a doubt he wouldn’t be able to take them on alone.

They walked with even, measured strides, but Eric slowly became aware of shadows shifting around them. To his amazement and terror, the shadows began to unpeel themselves from the walls of each building they passed, filing in behind them. Large, humanoid blobs of inky darkness trailed behind them in waves. 

The stranger muttered an unfamiliar word under his breath. Eric couldn't understand it, but from the tone he reckoned it to be a curse. “Sorry, looks like you're involved. This way.”

Their pace quickened, the man taking sharp corners and pulling Eric along in the wake of his fluttering tunic. Eric's heart began to race faster and faster as their change in speed promoted the same from their pursuers. Soon they were sprinting down the empty alleys, far away from the crowds and the noise with a tidal wave of living shadows rushing behind them. Eric stumbled a step when he saw that they had run out of places to go; they were headed right for a blank brick wall. 

All common sense indicated that the man would stop. No matter what he did after- fight the monsters, flee, disappear in a puff of smoke- he had to at least stop running full tilt toward the dead end. But the man only increased his speed and hooked an arm around Eric’s waist. With a whispered warning to hold on, the stranger tensed his legs and jumped. 

Whatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhat?

A cool tingle spread out from Eric’s core, going all the way to his fingertips and the ends of his hair. They weren't coming down. They weren't falling. 

Goodness gracious, Eric was flying. 

His knees drew up almost to his chest and he bit back a squeal. The ground shot away beneath them, and he only saw a quick glimpse of the shadow creatures slamming into the brick wall before the man once again spoke in his ear. “Now straighten your legs and start walking.”

Still in shock, Eric did as he was told. Together, they began to waltz across the empty air. The man’s grip on Eric’s waist never wavered as he held Eric firmly but gently to his side. It really wasn't so strange, Eric decided in the midst of all the noise in his mind. It felt just like walking out on the marshes by the edge of the Waste. Except that instead of spongy ground under his boots, there was only air. And, several dozen feet below, throngs of people who couldn't be bothered to look up from their revelry. Eric struggled to keep his legs moving in a walking motion, distracted by the crowds below. One small child shouted and grabbed his mothers skirt, pointing up to the sky, but she paid him no mind. They remained unseen. 

As they approached some peaked rooftops Eric felt another jolt of fear, but the other man simply took his free hand and guided him to keep step with him as they crossed. Together, they planted their feet on the tip of a steeple and pushed off again. After a few more steps they were keeping stride with one another once more.

“You are a natural,” the stranger said admiringly and Eric let himself give him a tentative smile. The stranger returned it. 

Their flight ended all too soon. The pies in Eric’s basket were still warm when they made a soft and graceful landing on the apothecary’s second floor balcony. The man perched on the railing and lowered a weightless Eric to stand on the floor. He still held fast to Eric’s hand, and Eric was afraid that if he let go then the man would disappear forever. 

“I'll make sure to draw them off, but make sure to wait a little before you go back outside, eh?” The man gazed earnestly into Eric’s eyes, simultaneously asking and commanding. 

“Okay,” Eric agreed, still breathless, and their hands finally parted. The tingling buzz that had flowed between them like an electric current abruptly ceased. Gravity took effect and made Eric stumble a step, but he caught his balance on the railing. When he looked up (and up and up, goodness) he saw the man staring right back down at him and a flush blossomed down his neck. He reached for his basket. “Um. I should thank- I mean, I have pie.”

A small smile crept over the strange man’s face. It was different from his previous grin, the one that was all practiced showing of teeth and measured pleasantries. This grin was small and crooked, but it hit Eric like a punch to the chest. One that he enjoyed far too much to be healthy. 

“I try to keep more protein in my diet,” he answered shortly, and for some reason Eric felt that he was being made fun of, though he couldn't pinpoint how. 

“Oh,” he said. “Well, I could try to make you a meat pie?”

“I'll look forward to it. But for now, I'll say goodbye.” With a flourishing bow, the man jumped back and over the railing. Eric rushed forward to look, but he was long gone in the multitudes of people still swarming the streets. 

He must have stood there for some time, because the next thing he knew Adam was snapping his fingers and waving a hand in front of his face. 

“-ic. Eric. How many fingers am I holding up?”

“... Five?”

Adam’s face twisted in consternation. It was a strange look for the happy go lucky blond, and the part of Eric that wasn't still reeling from his adventure wondered about his health. He eventually nodded and clapped a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Okay, technically yes, even though it's really only four. The thumb doesn't count, my friend. It just doesn't count. Not a phalanger, not a finger. But that's not important right now,” he continued. “Because one of the other apprentices just told me that you floated down to our balcony?! Tell me that is not a thing that just happened.”

“That's not a thing that just happened,” Eric answered woodenly. He received a flick to his forehead for that. 

“Okay,” Adam said. “You're telling me that you actually let some wizard take you for a flight around town? Eric, you could have died!”

Eric shook his head fervently. “No, really! It wasn't like that at all. He- he rescued me, Adam!”

“Rescue?!” Adam yelped, voice jumping an octave. He looked ready to burst, but before he could begin to lecture Eric another set of footsteps thundered up the stairs to the second floor. “Shit,” Adam groaned. “I left March with that customer to come find you. My boss is going to be so pissed.”

“Oh my,” Eric gasped. He looked down at his feet. He hadn't even considered that Adam might not have time. And now he's gone and gotten him in trouble. “I'm awful sorry about that. But I brought pies?” 

The feeble attempt to redeem himself worked spectacularly, as always. Adam’s eyes lit up and he crushed Eric in a bear hug. “Eric, you’re a miracle! But don't think you've gotten out of talking about this. Come on, we can hide in here.” He half carried Eric through a nearby door and quietly locked it behind them so they could have some privacy. 

Eric looked around curiously. They were in some kind of storage room filled to the rafters with dried roots and medicinal herbs. The homey smell put Eric more at ease. If he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, he could pick out the smells of rosemary and lavender as well as the dock leaves that grew near the marshes. 

Adam gestured to some crates, and they sat. Eric unpacked the top of the basket, pulling out Adam’s favorite blueberry crumble. He unearthed a cooking knife from his basket to cut into it, but stopped at the confused look on Adam’s face. “Adam, what is it? Does it look off to you?” It shouldn't- Eric recalled perfectly how he had meticulously crafted this treat for his friend. “ I’d better get a slice of you before I drop you off- Adam isn't going to share you with anyone, ” he'd told it. “ Not even Justin.”

Adam blinked quickly before giving a breathy laugh. “Ah, no. No Eric, it looks fantastic. I was just wondering if you brought any for- for Justin. You know, like that honey peach pie he likes so much?”

“Why, of course!” Eric said. He pulled the second dish out instead, and the sweet aroma of warm peaches filled the small room. “I didn't think you liked it much, though.”

“It's a, uh, it's a bet we have,” Adam stammered. He tore his gaze from the pie and rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. “We were arguing over which was better- not that all of your pies aren't phenomenal, Eric- and I couldn't present enough evidence without having tried both. Even formulas can't prove taste empirically.”

“Formulas?” Eric laughed. “You sound just like Justin! What, do you have tabulations for everything too?”

“Hey, we weren't talking about me. We were talking about you and the mystery wizard,” Adam abruptly changed the subject. 

Eric paused and set both pies aside for the moment. “Adam, there's nothing much else to tell. He saved me from a drunken soldier and then escorted me here.” Which was the truth. He left out the bits about the shadow monsters, because if he told Adam then Adam would tell Justin, and Justin was absolutely terrified of specters and the like (another reason to feel sorry for the poor boy, being forced to work so closely with magic.)

“He flew you here,” Adam corrected with a shake of his head. “Eric, wizards don't do all of that just to help a stranger. They do that to show off.” He leaned in closer, raising his eyebrows. “To flirt . To steal unsuspecting young boys’ hearts. If that wizard were Jack he could have eaten it.”

Eric gaped. “N-Now you see here, Adam Birkholtz,” he spluttered. “That is hardly-!”

“I've known you were gay for years, Eric,” Adam reminded him. “I've listened to your boy talk. I've helped set you up on secret dates. For crying out loud, I helped you pick out your clothes for them!”

“Justin helped more,” Eric grumbled. 

“I totally helped and we are getting off track again.” Adam stood to his full height of six foot three and put his hands on his hips. “Eric, you have got to be more careful. You know how dangerous it is out there. Even the Ace of the Waste is back on the prowl. I've seen that look on your face before, and you can't be going and falling in love with a wizard.”

“I am not in love with him,” Eric snapped. “Please, Adam, give me some credit. You think just because I'm gay I fall for every guy with a nice smile and big, rugged hands and… beautiful eyes… a chiseled jaw…” Eric trailed off, lost in the memory of his rescuer’s touch, his warmth. And then he realized that he was only proving Adam’s point. “Okay so maybe he was gorgeous. Sue me. It's not like I invited him home or told him my name. And- and Wizard Jack would only eat a beautiful girl’s heart. So it doesn't even matter. There's nothing for me to worry about there.”

A moment passed in silence, the two staring at one another; Adam with concern and Eric in unspoken challenge. 

Eventually, Adam dropped his posturing and sighed. “Look, I'm not going to fight you on this. But aside from the unshakable brotherhood of Adam and Justin? You're kind of my only friend. I just want you safe.”

Immediately, Eric felt awful. He knew it wasn't easy for Adam or Justin spending so much time apart, and he hardly got to see the two of them as it was. If he was being honest, they were his only friends too. Well, besides his mama. 

“I'll be careful,” Eric promised. “The crowds will have thinned out soon enough, and I can catch a trolley home. Okay?”

“Okay,” Adam grinned. “But first, a slice of that peach pie.”

As dusk approached, the revelry in the inner city finally began to die down. The finely dressed partiers turned in one by one and two by two, leaving the streets clear once again so they could go to the edge of town for the annual fireworks display. Eric, reassured by his time with Adam, stood at the apothecary door without fear of the shadow creatures. It seemed his wizard friend had kept his promise. 

“Now save the rest of that pie for Justin, you hear me Adam?” he admonished. “I know it's delicious, but it was meant for him and you've got an entire crumble all to yourself.”

Adam nodded solemnly, hand on his heart. “Swear it on my life.” Then he smiled warmly and hugged Eric goodbye. “Stay safe.”

“I will.” Eric set off at a trot to catch the trolley idling at the street corner. He jumped on just as it began to roll and looked back. Adam waved and Eric returned it until he was out of sight. 

Even with the trolley, it was still a good hour before Eric made his way back to the bakery. It gave him plenty of time to mull over the day’s events. He was still distracted thinking about the wizard when he arrived to find the storefront dark. The chairs were all turned up on their tables and the sign read “Closed.”

“Goodness, is it that late already?” Eric asked himself. Time must have gotten away with him more than he realized. He fished his spare key from his pocket and let himself into the bakery, quietly latching the door behind him and pocketing the key once again. He felt blindly for the wall mounted gas lantern and turned it on, casting shadows around the bakery. Eric had just taken off his hat and begun to climb the stairs when the bell above the door gave a cheerful jingle. 

Eric turned sharply to find an elegant man standing in the doorway. He wore an intricately embroidered black and red suit with scalloped sleeves, and he was looking around with vague disinterest until his eyes landed on Eric. “Are you the baker?” he asked softly. 

Eric shivered. The other man’s voice unsettled him in its flat coldness. But a customer was a customer, and he'd asked Eric a question. “Well yes, but- Oh, gosh, I could have sworn I locked that door behind me. I'm sorry sir, but we’re closed for the night. We open at-”

“How desperate,” the man interrupted. He glanced to Eric’s left, where some cookies and danishes were still on display. “How utterly desperate,” he repeated, almost to himself. The man crossed the bakery and walked right by Eric. His blond hair shone in the firelight in a most dazzling way. He looked and pointed at pastries in turn as he spoke again. “Love. Envy. Gratitude. Love. Good health. Love. Love, love, and love again.”

“What exactly are you goin’ on about?” Eric asked nervously. He'd had enough crazy men to worry about for one day, thank you very much. He didn't care to have another. 

The man acted as if Eric hadn't spoken. “They're not even that good, ” he frowned, sounding frustrated. “The power is there, but it's just... pathetic. Wasted. What does he even see in you?”

Eric drew himself up to his full height. “I'm afraid I'm gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. I won't stand here and be insulted in my own home.” Not that good! Indeed. Eric would wager he made the best biscuits and cakes in all Ingary, or at least Market Chipping, and that wasn’t a boast- it was just a plain and simple fact.

A moment passed and the man finally made eye contact with Eric. His eyes were cold and dark, and filled with disgust and hatred. His pinky finger twitched under a fluttering sleeve and he raised an eyebrow. “Standing up to the Ace of the Waste, huh? That takes some serious balls.”

“The Ace of the Waste?” Eric gasped. Everyone knew that title. This man was Kent Parson, second in notoriety only to Wizard Jack. And he was in his bakery. 

Eric tried to turn and run, but found he couldn’t move. Cold, invisible arms wrapped around Eric and threw him to the floor on his hands and knees. Eric looked up to see two towering shadow creatures take form over him, and he felt a surge of primal fear deep in his gut as the Ace lifted one arm and began to speak. 

“To he who longs for so much love, I bid you no such thing.

Your gift I take to twist and snare, and with silence close the ring.

For Love the fickle mistress shows Her favor but to few.

The works of your own hands She'll taste and never favor you.”

Thunder crashed from his mouth along with the words. A cold fire spread over Eric and he let out a scream. This was no gentle tingle like the other wizard’s magic. It burned through him inside and out, wrenching sobs from between his clenched teeth and stealing his breath. His stomach in particular ached worse than he had ever felt, and Eric drew his arms up around himself in pain. 

Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped. There was no gradual lessening of sensation; it simply ceased. One second he was writhing on the floor, and the next he had gone limp. “What did you-?” Eric tried to ask, but his single scream felt like it had slashed his throat. 

The Ace sauntered over to stand over Eric and placed his hands on his hips. “The best part about that spell is that you can't tell anyone about it,” Kent said with a harsh smile. “That ought to teach you not to mess with what's mine. But please, do give my regards to Jack. Maybe bake him one of those meat pies. See how well that turns out.” And with that he turned and left, the shadows following at his heels and extinguishing the lantern as they went. 

Eric flattened one hand to the floor. He pushed up, his stomach turned, and everything went black.

“Suzanne, send someone out to the apothecary!”

Eric startled awake at the sound of his father's voice and momentarily flailed. Strong hands caught his shoulders and settled him back against the floor. “Hey now, son. You're gonna be just fine.”

Eric blinked rapidly and slowly but surely his vision cleared. His father crouched over him, brows furrowed in deep concern. Suzanne Bittle, who had come running at her husband’s shout, stood behind him in her nightgown with a terrified look on her face. 

“Daddy? Mama?” he asked, feeling very small. 

“Dicky, what happened?” Mama knelt down and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. “Have you been down here all night?”

Eric’s head swirled. Memories from the night before returned and made him groan. “I was- he said that-” He choked. Although the words Kent Parson had spoken the night before were seared into his memory, they lodged in his throat when he so much as tried to whisper about them. 

The best part about that spell is that you can't tell anyone about it. 

That was what the Ace had said, and it seemed to be true. But what sort of spell was Eric under?

“Oh poor thing, you sound awful. Can you sit up, sweetheart?” Mama asked, already halfway to the kitchen. “I'll make some tea with lemon and honey, that'll patch you right up until I can fetch the doctor.”

“I'm fine Mama. I must’ve fainted on the way in,” Eric lied. “I'm not sick, just thirsty.”

Mama tutted. “I think I'll be the judge of that.” She swept into the kitchen, nightgown swirling. 

“Don't you ever scare us like that again, you hear?” Eric’s father said sternly. He helped Eric sit up and surprised him with a fierce hug. Eric let himself savor the rare show of affection for a few seconds before Mama came back with a mug for him. 

The soothing tea did help his parched throat, and it also bought Eric some time to think. Kent Parson had put some sort of spell on him. But Eric didn't feel any different, and his parents would have noticed if he'd been changed on the outside. So what exactly had the wizard done to him?

A soft knock made him look up at the door. A familiar face pressed close to the glass, confusion turning to concern when it spotted him on the floor. “Eric?”

“Caitlin!” Mama rushed to the door and unlocked it, ushering the girl inside before shutting it firmly behind her. “I'm real sorry sweetheart, we got most of our setup done but something’s happened to Dicky. You're welcome to sit, of course, you're practically family.” She patted the girl on the cheek before hurrying back to the kitchen once more. Eric’s father pulled over a chair for Caitlin and stepped back, apparently exhausted of comfort techniques and grateful for someone else to take over. 

Caitlin nodded her thanks but knelt down next to Eric anyway, taking his hand. “Eric, how are you feeling?”

Eric looked up, surprised, at the bakery’s favorite customer. Caitlin had a sweet tooth to rival his own, and often came in just to nurse a hot drink or chat over a plate of cookies. But something was off about her today, though Eric couldn't put his finger on it. 

“I'm just fine,” he said, trying to put her at ease. He twisted his hand to grip hers tightly. “I must have just fainted on the way inside last night. It was such a busy day, you know? I was surprised when you didn't come by, actually.”

Caitlin flushed and quickly wormed her hand out of Eric’s to give his shoulder a short pat. He tried not to feel hurt about that, but he was mostly confused. Caitlin was normally such an affectionate girl. They’d held hands before. It was mostly to avoid getting separated when they went through town together, but still.

“About that.” Caitlin began. “You remember I told you about that young man who’s been courting me?”

Eric immediately perked up, nodding. “The one who tried to propose to you ‘round six different times? I thought you weren't serious about him.”

“Well, I wasn't. But last night…” Caitlin smiled softly and her eyes went hazy, remembering. “We spent all day together at the festival, and then last night he proposed again.”

“Oh honey, that poor boy is gonna die of a broken heart if you keep turnin’ him down like that,” Mama clucked. She’d just come back from the kitchen, bearing coffee and biscuits for all of them. She took Eric’s empty mug and set it and the tray on a nearby table. 

“Oh, but that's actually why I came to visit this morning. I was hoping to place an order for a cake.” Caitlin smiled broadly and revealed her other hand. On her fourth finger sat a shiny golden ring with a flawless diamond set into the band. 

Eric was speechless for all of two seconds before he let out a whoop of joy. “Caitlin! Honey, really?”

“Oh, goodness!” Mama gasped. 

“Good for you,” was all his father could offer, but Caitlin beamed at him anyway. 

“Lemme get a gander at that ring!” Eric caught her hand and admired the slim band. It was obviously of good quality, and had to have cost a pretty penny. “Sugar, that is just spectacular! Though goodness me, I don't know how you held off that poor boy when he had this on him the whole time.”

Again, Caitlin politely recovered her hand. She took a shaky breath, looking conflicted, before smiling shyly. “Actually, I used to hope… well, I fancied you quite a bit, Eric. That's why I always said no.”

A pin could have dropped and still be heard. Mama stopped celebrating and placed a hand over her mouth in shock. 

Eric stared. He racked his brain through all of his memories of Caitlin, trying to find any clue that what she said was true. He always thought she was just being friendly. “I- I didn't know,” he said finally. “I'm sorry.”

Caitlin shook her head fondly. “No, you couldn't have known. I thought I was being so sneaky. I guess it paid off.” She gently pulled Eric into a hug. “You're an amazing friend, Eric. Will you please do the cake? You're the only baker I'd trust with it.”

“Darlin’, I’d be insulted if I wasn't.”

“But that can wait,” Mama scolded. “You might not need a doctor but you're going straight to bed, and as soon as I get the rest of that dough in the oven I'm making your MooMaw’s special soup. Caitlin, honey, help him up there for me will you? The coffee can cool a bit.”

Eric protested, but still took Caitlin’s hand when she offered it. Together, they walked up the narrow staircase shoulder to shoulder. He was surprised to find that he seemed perfectly fine, aside from his fatigue. After a few steps, he didn't even need Caitlin’s help. 

“You're awful quiet all of a sudden,” the girl in question noted. Her eyebrows drew together in concern as they reached the landing and she paused. “I hope I didn't upset you down there. I- I can go if you-”

“Don't be silly, hun. I was just thinking. You're one of my best friends, Caitlin. If anything, I probably upset you while I was being so darn dense.” 

Caitlin chuckled. “That was one of your more charming qualities, actually. I'm not saying I was ever put in… questionable situations, but it was nice to spend time with a nice man I knew I could trust if the time came.” A light blush dotted her cheeks at the end of her statement, and Eric’s responded in kind. 

By then they had reached the door to Eric’s bedroom. On a normal day, Caitlin would leave him at the door and head back downstairs. Mama would send her out the door with some fresh biscuits and more congratulations, and Eric would go rest. 

But this was not a normal day, and when Caitlin released his arm Eric stopped her. “Won't you come inside for just a minute? I need to talk to you about something important.”

Eyes wide, Caitlin tentatively nodded. Relief swept through Eric. He understood her hesitance, especially now. A young lady in a young man’s bedroom unsupervised when she was engaged to another man… But this was more important than a possibility of rumors, so Eric opened his door and quickly ushered her inside. 

“What a nice room,” Caitlin commented politely, and Eric almost laughed. There were a few shirts still strewn across his bed and writing desk from his frantic outfit decisions the day before, and his childhood toy sat sideways on his pillow. Caitlin noticed the latter immediately and smiled, pointing. “Who is this?”

Eric picked up the soft, worn rabbit and made him wave to Caitlin. “This is Señor Bunny. I've had him forever. And he is going to be our chaperone for the next few minutes.”

“A pleasure.”

Eric sat Señor Bun back on his pillow and quickly pulled out his desk chair for Caitlin to sit in, dragging it to the bedside. Caitlin sat, arranging her skirt properly around her legs, and Eric took his place across from her sitting cross legged on the bed. 

As he looked at Caitlin waiting patiently, Eric let himself have a moment to thank whatever force had allowed him to make such sure and loyal friends. He might not be able to tell her the details, but Caitlin was someone he knew he could confide in. “You said you trusted me, before,” he said. “Did you mean it?”

“Of course,” Caitlin answered. 

“Then I'm going to trust you too. I can't say why, but I'm going to ask you some questions and I need you to know that it's very, very important to me that you answer them honestly and that you know I'm not coming from a bad place here.”

Caitlin looked confused, but she nodded for him to continue. “Go ahead.”

“Okay.” Eric drummed his fingers against his knee. “First, I need you to tell me if I look any different to you from the last time you saw me.”

To his enduring gratitude, Caitlin actually took a moment to think about it. He could see her cataloging his face, his eyes, his body. She swallowed. “That's hard to answer.”

“Why is that?”

Caitlin made a vague waving notion with her hand. “I mean, you really don't look any different. Everything is the same. It's just… me, I guess. Before, you always had this glow around you.”

“Because you were attracted to me,” Eric supplied evenly. Sweat beaded on his brow. An idea was forming in his mind, and he didn't like it one bit. “And now you're not. Is that the change?”

“Huh,” was all Caitlin said in reply. “That could be it.”

Eric bit his lip. “Caitlin, this is important. Did you eat anything late last night? Anything that could have come from the bakery?”

Again, Caitlin looked at him oddly. Eric became aware that his questions were getting more and more obscure and strange, and Caitlin might possibly think he was insane. “Trust me,” he pleaded. “This is very important. I have to know.”

After a moment, Caitlin slowly shook her head. “I had some sandwiches around lunchtime but we didn't eat dinner because we went to the edge of the Waste to see the fireworks. He- that's where he proposed, and all of a sudden I realized I didn't want to say no anymore. So I didn't.”

The fireworks . Eric hadn't heard the fireworks. Because he'd been passed out on his parlor floor, cursed and knocked down flat. 

The works of your own hands She’ll taste and never favor you.

The Ace had given him the cruelest curse possible. No one who ate his food- who had ever eaten his food- would ever love him. Caitlin, the living proof of that, was sitting in his bedroom with a ring on her finger. 

“Lord,” he whispered, putting a hand to his head. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. “He was right.”

“Who was right? Eric, what's going on?” Caitlin sounded concerned but also frightened. She reached out to touch the hand on his knee. 

Eric recoiled. 

Caitlin froze, a look of hurt crossing her face. “Eric, I'm only trying to help.”

“You can't,” he said woodenly. He drew himself up into a ball and put his face in his knees. “I don’t think anyone can.”

A breath of silence passed and Eric heard Caitlin’s dress rustle as she stood. “Well I'm sorry I couldn't be of any help to you. I truly hope you find someone who can.” Her shoes clicked on his wooden floor and Eric braced himself for the sound of his bedroom door slamming. 

It never came, and perhaps it was that small kindness that made Eric break. He fell back onto his bed with a muffled sob, clutching Señor Bunny to his chest. “What am I going to do?” he asked the stuffed animal. “Everyone within a three day train ride of here has eaten our bread. Or even if they haven't, how am I supposed to tell? Nobody’s ever gonna fall in love with me now.”

His life was ruined. Not everyone married for love these days- marriages of business and convenience were sometimes the only way to secure futures for the youngest of the family- but Eric had always held out hope. He would meet a nice man somewhere and they could settle down, maybe adopt a kid from among the hundreds of orphans sure to come through the impending war. 

Now, he would never have that. Even if he went somewhere far, far away, he could never bake again. How could he live with that?

“Who am I if I can't even do what I love?” Eric whispered. 

Señor Bunny’s shiny black eyes stared back steadily, waiting. Eric wiped his eyes with a pitiful sniffle. He dropped a kiss between his bunny’s velvety ears and sat up, steeling himself. “Well, I guess there's no helping it. Come on, Bun. We've got some packing to do.”

Of course, Mama chose that moment to come bustling in his door. Her face looked torn between anger and concern. “Eric Richard Bittle, what did you do to that poor girl? She ran right on out of here without even a goodbye.”

Eric cringed and hugged Bun more tightly. “I said some pretty dumb things, Mama. I wish I could explain, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Mama’s face softened. She put a tray with more tea and some croissants on his bedside table, and Eric felt the scent of their favorite cinnamon apple jam wrap around him like a blanket. With her other hand she sat down a bowl of the soup she'd promised, an old family recipe guaranteed to drive out cold and flu. She came and sat on the edge of the bed and stroked careful fingers through his hair. “I always knew you’d be a heartbreaker,” she said softly. “I just wish it hadn’t happened to such a nice girl.”

He had to bite his lip hard. “She doesn’t love me, Mama. Or if she did, she doesn’t anymore. She’ll be happy now.” A warning lump formed in his throat, already damnably familiar. He was getting too close to the nature of the curse. He swallowed and his jaw clicked.

“Oh honey.” Mama sighed, shaking her head. “I know you wanna protect that heart of yours, but being mean to Caitlin isn’t gonna make it like she never liked you, or like she didn’t choose that boy over you.”

“It’s not that-” And again, his own throat cut him off before he could defend himself. Eric gritted his teeth. “I’m just tired, Mama. I don’t know what’s happening and I’m scared.”

“Don’t be, baby. Everything will turn out alright, you’ll see.” Mama leaned down to press a kiss to his temple before standing and heading to the door. She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. “Try to drink that before it goes cold, and then get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Eric smiled weakly. That was what she always used to say when he was little and scared of the dark. All she had to do was remind him that when he woke up, she would still be there. And he always said it back.

“Bye, Mama.”

She blew him a kiss and shut the door behind her.

Chapter Text

Hey, y’all-

I’m under a cspeurse

There’s a lot going on with me right now

I have a friend out of town who needs me to

Don’t worry when you wake up and find this

I’m sorry

I’m going to go and visit Justin out by the Waste. I’m still not feeling all that well and I think he might know some way to help. I’ll write to you soon. 

Love, Dicky

“You sure ‘bout this, son?” The farmer tipped up the brim of his hat and squinted against the afternoon sun. “There's nothing but witches and weeds out there.”

Eric smiled thinly and hopped off the hay cart, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag as he landed. “Yessir, this is just fine. I thank you kindly for the trouble.”

“You're crazy,” piped up the farmer’s daughter. She swung her short legs from her perch on the driver’s seat and cocked her head at him like he was a funny looking bug. “Daddy says if you go out there you're gonna get cursed!”

“Shush, Violet.”

Too late, Eric thought. “I'll be fine,” he told them. Reaching into his pocket, he flipped a silver penny to the farmer. “Thank y'all again, but I'll be on my way now.”

The farmer eyed the coin and shrugged before he put it in his pocket, shaking his head. “Good luck, I suppose. If you see that prince out there tell him to get his tail back home and stop this war.”

“Will do.” Eric turned toward the Waste, hat pulled low over his brow. The rolling hills stretched before him, dotted with bushes and little else. There could be wild animals out there, or more wizards.

Kent Parson could be out there. 

Eric started walking. 

The winds of the Waste ripped right through his jacket like it was paper. Every step took more effort than Eric thought possible, like he was pushing against a stone wall for every bit of it. He walked for well over an hour, judging by the sun, before turning around to check his progress. 

His heart sank. The town was still in sight. From his uphill vantage point, he could even still see the farmer’s cart puttering along the road at the edge of the Waste. 

“Sweet apple pie,” Eric groaned. He found a rock nearby and took a seat to catch his breath. “If I keep going at this rate, I'll be an old man by the time I get anywhere.”

At the mention of pie, his stomach growled plaintively. Well, he had been on the road for some time already…

Eric unshouldered his pack and undid the clasp, flipping it open to rummage through the materials inside. He tried not to feel guilty about some of it- Mama could buy some more flint just fine, and that coil of rope had been in the larder for years without being used. 

Aside from that, it had only taken moments to stuff his bag with clothes, Señor Bun, and some hard biscuits and water. It was afternoon rush, and Mama thought he was asleep. She didn't even see him leave. 

I’ll come back, he told himself. I'll find some way to break this curse, and then I can come back.

Finally, at the bottom of the bag, he found the biscuits. Individually wrapped in spare newspaper, they were still a little bit warm, if slightly soggy. Eric unwrapped one and couldn't help but smile at the warm, familiar scent. 

As he ate, Eric's mind wandered. The curse’s lines kept tumbling through his head, over and over until they almost sounded like a song he knew. It was just so specific- he surely doubted that Kent Parson had used that exact curse before. Which meant he'd either made it up on the spot or planned it in advance, just for him. 

Eric pulled his jacket tighter with one hand, shivering. Neither option held much hope for him. If it was made up on the spot, it was powerful- only the best wizards could make their own spells like that, and spontaneous spells were extremely potent. If it was written beforehand, that just meant that Kent had prepared it. Had been watching him for the right moment, steeping the magic in emotion. 

Either way, it wasn't going to be easy to break. If it could be broken at all. 

“Now that's no way to think,” Eric grumbled at himself around a bite of biscuit. He uncapped his canteen and took a small sip of water to wash the biscuit down before packing his things away once again. Night would be falling soon, and he needed to at least find some shelter from the wind before dark. So he gripped his hat and set out again. 

Oh, sure. Justin might have been able to analyze his problem. But he'd always been scared of curses and demons, and if Eric couldn't even tell anyone about the curse then he couldn't expect them to break it. 

That left one option; strike out on his own and see where it got him. 

He hated lying to his folks, but he quite literally couldn't tell them the truth this time. Maybe, with Caitlin’s help, they could figure it out on their own. But until then, he had to find his own way. 

As it turned out, his own way was still not very fast. The wind only worsened as the sky darkened. It buffeted Eric’s lithe frame, at times threatening to bowl him over. 

Eric looked over his shoulder. He couldn't see the city lights anymore. He couldn't turn back now if he wanted. But he needed some kind of help. 

“Hello?” he called out, half joking. “If anyone’s out there- Kent Parson? Heck, can Wizard Jack hear me right now? I could use some help!”

No one answered but the wind, of course. Eric shook his head. “Don’t be silly,” he told himself. “Nobody dumb enough to be out here but you.”

A sudden rustling noise cut above the wind, making Eric jump. His eyes landed on a nearby bush, just a blob in the encroaching darkness, with a large branch poking out the side. 

“Now that could make a nice walking stick,” Eric murmured. He shuffled sideways against the wind and grabbed ahold of the branch. It was straight and abnormally smooth. A light tug did nothing to pull it loose, so Eric pushed on it like a lever to break through the bush. 

“Come on,” he told the stick while he struggled. “You're gonna be such a good help to me if I can just get- you- outta there-!” With a final grunt, Eric lowered the bulk of his weight into the stick. Something in the bush gave, and the top half swung up to reveal-

A scarecrow. It was a scarecrow with a dang potato for a face. He was dressed in a ragged coat and top hat, and had a weathered sash across his chest advertising… somebody’s potatoes, at least. Eric couldn't make out the name. Wouldn't matter, anyway; he hated potatoes. 

“Well that's just perfect.” Eric let go of the scarecrow and crossed his arms over his chest. “I can't very well use you as a staff. But how on earth did you get all the way out here? Blow here on the wind?”

The scarecrow suddenly lurched out of the bush as a gust of cold air rattled the branches. Eric scrambled out of the way, but the scarecrow didn't fall forward. He stood upright on his pole and began to hop in place. 

A magic scarecrow. Of course. Eric smothered a bemused smile. “Oh, I see. You musta got stuck, huh?”

The scarecrow stopped hopping for a moment and rocked in place. Eric guessed it was the best nod a scarecrow could manage. “Well, good luck to ya, I guess. I’d ask if you wanted to travel with me, but I think I've had enough magic and curses for a while.” He gave a small wave and turned to go on his way. 

Tok tok tok tok.

Eric looked over his shoulder and up into the face of the scarecrow. He stood not a foot behind him, swaying in the wind. “No no no,” Eric scolded. “I told you to move along, you Potato Head. I don't even like potatoes. They're my least favorite vegetable, and I don't fancy traveling with one. You’ll just make me think of MooMaw’s tater soup.” He took another step. 

Tok.

“Ugh.” Eric turned to fully glare at Potato Head. “Look, I'm not trying to be mean. But I've asked you to leave me alone.” An idea glimmered in the back of his head, and Eric grabbed onto it. “If you wanna help, why don't you go find me somewhere to stay?” he suggested. “A nice cave or a hollow, somewhere out of the wind. Could you do that for me?”

Potato Head did his rocking-nod again. 

“Well then hop to it, quick as you please!”

Potato Head spun on his pole and started hopping out into the open Waste; nearly a full cardinal direction from the hills Eric was destined for. 

“Good luck, Potato Head,” Eric whispered in a singsong voice. He set out again, happy to be rid of the magic scarecrow. He would be hopping for ages, and by the time he did find something Eric would be well away from here. He gathered some old branches from around the bush and put them in his pack for kindling, and then pushed on.

He walked for another hour in the direction of the mountains, gritting his teeth against the bitter cold. He didn’t panic when the sun slipped below the horizon, leaving him in twilight. He just had to hunker down a little more and find some kind of shelter.

… Shelter in the Waste. Sure. He could do that. If he’d had maybe three more hours of daylight. 

As Eric paused, wondering what to do, he slowly became aware of a sound over the whistling of the wind. Now that his own panting had subsided he could hear a faint creaking sound, growing louder with each passing second. And with it, something else.

Tok tok tok tok tok tok tok tok.

“That Potato Head.” Eric groaned and put a hand to his head in exasperation. “What’s he gone and done now?” He stopped walking and turned, hand on his hip. “Alright, Tater Head, I-” and his words froze on his lips. 

Potato Head hopped smugly, only a few paces ahead of a doorway. A doorway that was coming toward Eric at a frightening pace. But he couldn't seem to care much about that, far too busy taking in what was attached to the door. 

It was a building on legs. Enormous metal legs that looked like a chicken’s but moved like a spider’s. The creaking metal walls bulged and slanted at impossible angles, hissing steam from pipes and vents strewn across its huge surface. It was a mess… But still imposing enough to be familiar.

“You can't be serious,” Eric gasped. “Tater, this- this is-”

Potato Head twirled as he jumped, presumably in celebration of his job well done. The castle- for it was Jack’s castle, Eric finally let himself think- grumbled to a halt a few yards away from Eric. 

He couldn't believe it. He squinted at Potato Head, suddenly suspicious. “Are you with him? Did he have you come find me?” It wasn't much of a stretch- apparently wizards just didn't like him. 

Potato Head didn't nod, but hopped to Eric and back to the door. He did it twice more before Eric got the message: Go inside.

Eric eyed the building. He couldn’t tell how it stayed together. It was mysterious, and dangerous, and enchanted; everything Eric was trying to avoid by coming out here. But it was also warm; through a small window in the battered door, he saw firelight flickering through the darkness. So he steeled himself and knocked on the peeling paint.

The door opened without a sound. Eric stepped inside and just like that, the sounds of the Waste ceased. He turned and saw Potato Head standing just outside, saw him swaying as the wind tore at his coat and hat, but couldn’t hear any of it anymore. He only heard the sounds of the castle settling and a fire crackling away in the grate.

A fire…

Eric stared at Potato Head. “Are you coming in?” he asked.

Tater swung his arms side to side; a no, then.

“Then thank you kindly for helping me,” Eric said softly, because even if he had tried to trick the poor thing, he’d still done as he was told and Eric was not raised in a barn. He closed the door gently behind him (nor was he raised by wolves) and took a look around.

There were stairs directly in front of him, and he mounted them one at a time. At every step he paused to listen; he half expected for someone to jump out at him at any second. But nothing stirred. He was alone.

By the time he made it to the middle stair, the thought had occurred to him that since this was Jack’s castle, there was a good possibility that Jack would be there and take offense to a stranger trespassing in his home. He might even be mad enough to eat Eric’s heart.

“Well, I won’t need it if I can’t break this curse or find safe travel,” he murmured to himself in the near silence. “It’s worth a shot.” He took the final step onto the landing and cringed.

The inside of the castle was in a worse state than the outside. Cobwebs and mildew clogged the rafters, and dust covered every surface. A staircase extended up into darkness, all loose nails and splintered boards. There were plants and books and quills strewn across chairs and every inch of the table in the kitchen.

Sweet mercy, the kitchen.

Eric actually whimpered when he took in the sight of the sink. He didn’t know what was growing in it, and he didn’t want to. “You’d think an all-powerful wizard would stand to do some basic cleaning for a castle. Oh, look at you,” he said mournfully to the big iron pot in the corner. “I’d give my left foot to have something like you in the bakery, and here you are full of feathers and dust! I bet no one’s made anything but potions in you, huh?”

Maybe Jack would let him stay for a while if he cleaned up this mess… Eric shook his head forcefully. What was he thinking? He obviously couldn’t stay here. “I just need passage,” he reminded himself. “Just for the night.”

Tearing his eyes away from the devastation in the kitchen, Eric turned to the area that served as a living room. There was a noxious green sofa in the middle of the floor whose cushions looked like they hadn’t been aired out in months. Eric gagged at the sight of it. But it was right next to the dwindling fire, and Eric was still chilled to the bone so he approached it with caution and sat. It was lumpy, but far better than some rock out in the cold, dark Waste.

With shaking and numb hands, he fumbled the clasp open on his bag and pulled out the twigs he’d gathered for fire. He placed them strategically about the flame until they caught, and the fire flared up hungrily. Eric shuddered in appreciation and crept forward, cupping his hands against the warmth. 

He dimly realized that he should be terrified right now. He knew first hand now what wizards could do, and here he was setting up to stay the night in one’s house. “I guess there’s nothing much worse that can happen to me,” he mumbled sleepily as he stared into the fire. He began to wonder if it might be enchanted too, with how warm it was after being left unattended. 

And the colors- aside from the usual red and orange, he could see swirls of blue-green flame in the blaze. It reminded him of his one trip to Porthaven as a child, when his father had built a campfire from driftwood. As he watched, eyes drooping from weariness, the swirls converged until they almost looked like a mouth… long, flowing hair… eyes…

Eric blinked rapidly and sat up straight. Those were eyes. 

“Man, I do not envy you,” the fire said to him, voice cracking and popping. “That is some wicked magic.”

“The fire spoke?” Eric gasped, wide eyed. 

“The fire has a name, you know,” came the amused response. “And it's Shitty.”

Eric winced. “Oh. Um, I’m awful sorry about that. I suppose you can rename yourself, if you hate it that much?”

The thin line of green flame that made up the fire’s mouth opened wide in a hearty laugh, and Eric realized that the thicker line above it was meant to be a mustache. How strange. “No worries, man. I mean that’s what I go by. You can call me Shitty too. And you are…?”

Eric set his jaw, hesitating. This was just a little too much after the day he’d had. Jumping scarecrows, talking fire- next thing he knew his bag would start singing to him.

“Hmmm. So you talk to the cauldron but not to me. I’m hurt, brother. I’m hurt deep.” The flames dimmed a little as Shitty looked him up and down. “Well, you must be someone for Parson to lay such a whopper of a curse on you.”

“You know I’m under a spell?” Eric blurted.

“Ha. That got you talking.”

Eric’s hand flew to his throat in shock. “How did I do that? I’ve been trying to talk about the curse all day and- oh, I did it again!” He felt cautiously hopeful. “Is it gone?”

Shitty flared up in laughter. “Sorry, but no. You can’t tell anyone about the curse, but if they already know, it’s fair game. Frankly, I’m shocked nobody’s found a way around that loophole yet.”

“Loophole?” Eric repeated.

“Kid, magic is all about loopholes. You gotta be very, very specific in how you word things. And Parse likes to play rough and dirty- he doesn’t always think things through very well.”

Incredible. Eric scooted forward until he was on the very end of the sofa cushion. “You know Kent Parson?”

“Not personally,” Shitty admitted. He idly chewed on a twig and it turned to ash in his mouth, smoking up toward the chimney. “But I know his style. And that curse reeks of jealousy. What the hell did you do? ”

“I- I don’t know,” Eric said softly. “He just showed up in my bakery, said something about me being desperate, and-” He splayed his fingers like fireworks. “-he magicked me and left me there on the floor.”

“Anything else?” Shitty prompted. “I mean, did he say anything besides the, heh, magicking?”

Eric flushed. It wasn’t his fault he hadn’t encountered magic until the night before. But he thought hard, trying to remember. He thought about the pain he’d felt when Kent cursed him, and blacking out. He remembered watching Kent walk toward the door…

“Give my regards to Jack. See how well that turns out.” Eric shivered. It wasn’t hard to guess which Jack he meant now. “That’s what he said.”

Shitty’s fire turned red, and his green flaming eyebrows drew together. “Did he now?”

“I’m sorry,” Eric said quickly. “I’d forgotten about that, honest! I passed out right after, and then when I came to everything was so hectic, and-!”

“Kid. Kid!” Shitty yelled over his babble until Eric fell quiet. His flames had settled back into sunshiney yellow, but a tint of orange still flickered threateningly around his edges. “Relax. I don’t think you’re working for him or anything. I just don’t get how he knew you’d end up here. Parson is one of the best wizards out there, but he’s not a psychic. This shit is weird.”

Eric bit his lip and averted his eyes. “You can stop calling me kid. My name is-”

“Don’t!” Shitty shushed frantically. “I was just kidding with you before- whatever you do, don’t tell anyone around here your real name- especially not your full real name. It gives people way too much power over you, and you’re already cursed enough. What, do you live under a rock?

Eric inhaled sharply, shaking. “O-Oh. No. Just in Market Chipping. But if I can’t say my name... Then- what-?”

“One name, last or first,” Shitty instructed. “Nicknames or fake ones work better, but I’m sure Jack would appreciate some transparency from a stranger staying in the Haus.”

“Hm.” Eric steepled his fingers and pondered for a moment. If the Ace had been to the bakery, he likely knew Eric’s last name, but not his first. If he only went by his last name, maybe no other wizards would know his name was Eric. “Call me Bittle,” he said finally. “It’s my family name.”

“Alright then, Bittle,” Shitty smiled. “Welcome aboard. I guess you’ll want Jack to have a look at that curse of yours in the morning-”

“No!” Eric squeaked, eyes wide. He cleared his throat loudly to bring it back down. “I mean, that’s mighty generous of you. But I’ve had quite enough of spells and curses for right now. And it’s not that bad, really… I just needed to get as far away from Market Chipping as possible.” He slumped a little on the couch at the thought. “And never bake again. That’s it.”

Shitty hummed in sympathy. “I thought I saw some reversals thrown in there. Let me guess- can’t do what you love or you’ll never find love?”

“Yeah,” Eric sighed. He let his head fall back against the couch cushions and closed his eyes. “And I’m right in guessing he made that one up just for me? It sounded pretty specific, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t know.” Shitty’s light flickered on the other side of Eric’s eyelids in a soothing refrain. “What, did he say it out loud to you?”

Eric frowned, but didn’t open his eyes. “Of course. That’s how I figured out what I was cursed with. Why?”

Shitty whistled a long, low note. “Man. Those are the worst. You remember it, right? Try to repeat it back to me.”

Eric was exhausted, but he did. Line for line. By the time he finished his body was sinking into the couch. 

“That’s harsh,” Shitty said softly. “But don’t worry about it, Bittle. I’m sure me or Jack can find a way to break it if you give us some time. Wizards and fire demons can work pretty well together.”

“That’d be nice,” Eric yawned. He toed his shoes off and tucked his legs under him. Ahh, that was so much better. And his jacket would make a nice blanket… “You’re sure I can stay the night? I can cook, clean, whatever y’all need.”

“Oh, you’re definitely staying. And while you’re here, maybe you can even help out with the spell that’s on me.”

Eric snuggled deeper into the crevice at the back of the couch. “Sounds like a deal,” he said. He was asleep by the time his mouth closed.

Eric awoke to the sound of rough knocking, and inexplicably his first thought was that he’d slept through his father’s first knock and was about to get chewed out for not turning down the tables. But memory flooded back to him in enough time, and he willed his body to stay perfectly still on the sofa. He waited. 

One set of footsteps reached the landing, sounding fairly exuberant. There was a shuffling sound above him and a shadow crossed his eyes. He prayed that his face didn’t show he was awake.

“Huh,” a voice said, distinctly male but still young. “Shitty, should I be concerned?”

“It’s fine, Chowder. He’s a friend.”

The shadow disappeared. “Oh, okay. I’ll get the door.”

“Thanks. It’s Porthaven.”

“Got it!”

Eric risked a quick peek, opening his eyes just a sliver. He was on his side, facing Shitty in the grate. The fire demon stuck his tongue out at him. “Morning. Sleep well?”

“Who is that?” Eric whispered back. He jerked his chin in the direction behind the couch, where he heard a cheerful “Standby!” before the door opened. “Is that Jack?”

“What, Chowder?” Shitty snickered, sparks fluttering around his face. “No, he’s one of Jack’s apprentices. He’s usually the one to take orders this early.”

“Apprentices?” He didn’t know Jack had an apprentice, let alone several. He didn’t think anyone knew that; he’d never heard of them. And who was he taking orders from all the way out here in the Waste? “Are they going to be mad that I’m here?” he asked nervously.

Before Shitty could answer, the footsteps came back and someone leaned over the back of the couch again. A young man, probably a year or so younger than Eric himself, blinked down at him. He had large, dark eyes and a crooked smile, and was dressed in a plain tunic and trousers. Eric remembered what Shitty had called him; Chowder. “Oh! Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up. There was a messenger,” Chowder apologized.

“Y-You didn’t wake me.” Eric sat up and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m E-” He caught Shitty’s warning glance and quickly changed course. “Bittle. My name’s Bittle.”

The boy named Chowder shook his hand, surprising Eric with his strong grip. “I’m Chowder. Is Bittle a nickname, or what?”

“Family name,” Shitty answered for him. Eric was grateful for that. If Shitty vouched for him, maybe there wouldn’t be so many questions. “He’s going to be staying with us for a while, so don’t let the others rough him up too much.”

Eric tensed, but Chowder only rolled his eyes. “Haha. You know they only fight with each other.” He gave Eric a look that held irritation tempered by endless fondness. “He means the other apprentices. They’re really nice, don’t let all the shouting fool you.”

“What do you-?”

As if on schedule, a yell rang out from upstairs. A scuffle of sorts erupted above their heads, punctuated by curses and loud thumps and followed by an ominous silence. Eric curled in on himself, heart racing. What in goodness name was happening up there?

But Shitty and Chowder just sighed in unison, like this was an everyday occurrence. “I’ll find some breakfast,” Chowder said. His eyes went to Eric, questioning. “You want some? I’m not sure what we have, but…”

“Oh no, I couldn’t impose.” Eric felt around on the floor for his bag and held it up, patting the side. “I still have a few biscuits in here, so I can eat those.”

“‘Swawesome.” Chowder flung the strange word over his shoulder at him as he strode toward the kitchen. He picked up pile after pile of parchment and books, muttering to himself. He eventually unearthed a plate of rolls and a small butter dish. “Do you want some butter for those?” he offered. “There’s not much, but Nursey doesn’t even use it so there should be enough.”

Eric nodded and slipped on his shoes, taking his jacket with him as he went to hang it by the door. With that squared away he padded over to the kitchen table. He took the mostly clean knife Chowder offered him and set to slicing open his biscuit. While he did, his eye caught on a basket of eggs and a coffee tin. “Wouldn’t you rather have a nice hot breakfast?” he asked Chowder, gesturing. “Some eggs, or coffee?”

“That’d be nice, but Jack isn’t back yet. He’s been gone since yesterday morning.” Chowder continued spreading his butter, not even looking up.

Eric clucked his tongue. Chowder must be younger than he thought, the poor thing. He picked up the egg basket and a skillet from the mess, walking back over to Shitty. “Don’t you worry about that. I can cook. It’ll pay for the night’s shelter, at least.”

Mouth half full of bread, Chowder shook his head. “That’s really nice of you, but Shitty only puts his head down for Jack.”

“That’s right!” the fire demon boasted. He glared up at Eric with a smug look. “I’m a super powerful fire demon, Bittle. I don’t exactly do breakfast.”

Eric placed his things on the edge of the fireplace and frowned, leaning in with both hands on his hips to get on Shitty’s level. “Uh huh? Well I seem to remember you asking for a little help last night right before bed,” he said lowly. “Now I can get through this curse just fine on my own, but do you think anyone else is gonna waltz through Wizard Jack’s door and offer to help you out?”

Shitty gaped at him, flames dancing slowly from shock. He went scarlet, sparking up a storm and cursing colorfully as Eric twirled the skillet and pushed. 

Shitty’s head went down. Flames licked the sides of the skillet, arching up toward Eric’s hands, but they never touched. Eric smirked. “That’s more like it.”

“Whoa.” Chowder came to stand behind him, looking over Eric’s shoulder. “Shitty’s doing what you say.” He side-eyed him warily. “You’re sure you’re not a wizard?”

“Pretty sure,” Eric said brightly. “Now could you hand me the rest of that butter? Don’t want these eggs sticking.”

“Sure. Oh, I think we have some bacon around here. Do you want that too?”

“Don’t encourage him!” Shitty wailed.

“That sounds lovely, sweetheart,” Eric replied. “Eggs and bacon it is, then.”

Chowder went and fetched the bacon and butter. Eric patted out some butter into the skillet and sighed happily at the simmer. He deftly cracked two eggs at once, careful of the shells, and let them hit the pan with a hiss. “How do you take your eggs?” he asked without looking.

“Scrambled, please!”

“Here’s a curse for you,” Shitty grumbled. “ May all your bacon burn.”

“Oh hush, you.” Eric added a couple slices of bacon, stomach already growling at the thought of the salty preserved meat mingling flavors with the eggs.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one. Two sets of footsteps began crashing down the stairs, sounds of pushing and shoving following in their wake. Eric looked up, startled, to see a whirlwind approach. Through a mess of pale freckles and tattooed skin, he made out a wrestling match of two young men dressed the same as Chowder; the other apprentices, apparently.

“I call next,” the red haired one shouted before stumbling to a halt, a frown twisting his face. “Wait, you’re not Jack. What are you doing here?”

His darker companion didn’t speak at first, silently looking Eric up and down once before placing a protective hand on the redhead’s shoulder. “Shitty,” he said warily.

“This is Bittle,” Shitty explained again, though with more annoyance this time. He bucked under the skillet. “But you can call him Bitty.”

“Bitty?” Eric hissed under his breath.

“Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it?”

The tattooed man smirked easily, stepping forward to offer his hand. “Hey, Bitty. Name’s Nursey. The loser who yelled at you is Dex-”

“Hey!” ‘Dex’ shoved Nursey’s shoulder, scowling.

“-and I see you’ve already met Shits and C. Did Jack take you on without telling us?

“And why is Shitty putting his head down for you?” Dex added. He had barely taken his eyes off of the fire demon since he came downstairs. “He never does that for anyone except Jack.”

Eric smiled. “So I’ve been told. But I don’t hear Chowder complaining. How do you boys take your eggs?”

A smiling Nursey was just about to answer when a strange sound came from the front door. All faces turned to a dial Eric hadn’t noticed before. It hung above the door and had four colors on it- red, green, blue, and black. As he watched, the dial spun from blue to black, and the door opened to reveal a familiar face.

Eric whirled back to face Shitty, working on breakfast as if he hadn’t seen the man come in. But inside, his mind and gut were both tumbling around. Because that was the man from the May Day festival- the wizard who had saved him! He was unmistakable with his flashy cloak and bright blue eyes. 

Lord, it had been Jack who escorted him to the apothecary. What would he think of Eric if he saw him here in his home not two days later? He was still wearing the same outfit, for crying out loud! Heart hammering in his ears, he waited to be recognized.

“You’re all up early.” Jack’s sonorous voice commented, sounding amused. His strange accent was more prominent here, more relaxed.  “And who’s this? Shitty, you’re being so obedient.”

“It’s not my fault!” Shitty cried. “He- he bullied me!”

“Hm. Not just anyone can do that.” Clear footsteps crossed the room to where Eric was still scraping away at the eggs and bacon, eyes down. He felt more than saw Jack’s looming presence at his side, and he couldn’t help but glance up at him.

Jack looked right back, gaze going straight through him. Eric was dumbfounded to see that while he’d recognized Jack on sight… Jack didn’t seem to have a single clue who he was. 

Relief swept through him so strongly that he didn’t even protest as Jack took the spoon from his hand and nudged him aside.

“Hand me four more slices of bacon and six more eggs,” he instructed, and Eric jumped to comply without thinking. Jack cracked the eggs as they were handed to him, tossing the shells into the fire for Shitty to munch on before speaking again. “So, what brings you to my Haus? Shitty doesn’t usually just let vagrants wander in, so you must have a reason.”

Eric bit his tongue hard. The very nerve of this man-! He was so different from the dashing stranger who rescued him in that alley. His blue eyes no longer shone with laughter, and his charm and tact seemed to have fled for the hills. What had happened?

Wizards don't do all of that just to help a stranger. They do that to show off. To flirt. To steal your heart.

Eric’s knuckles went white on the edge of the fireplace. He didn’t know if Jack actually wanted his heart or not- though not likely, due to how he was acting- but even if he didn’t right now, he might have before. Either purposeful or on a whim, he’d gone out of his way for Eric. And, Eric realized with a wry sense of relief, he had a way to protect himself.

So he smiled as he handed Jack the bacon and sweetly answered, “Oh, I’m Bittle. Shitty hired me as a housekeeper because he was so disgusted with this place. I cook and clean for room and board. Now why don’t you go sit with the boys and let me handle this? I won’t be but a moment.”

Jack gave him a sidelong glance, but shrugged. “Suit yourself. But I won’t come save you if Shitty decides to rebel.” He handed the wooden spoon back to Eric and gestured for the boys to start clearing the table for breakfast.

“That’s pretty harsh,” Shitty noted quietly as Eric prepared the food. “You’re still going to cook for them knowing about the curse?”

Eric glanced over his shoulder. The apprentices were still trying to find another chair, and Jack was distracted breaking up a squabble between Dex and Nursey over the seating arrangement. Chowder looked on, but didn’t interfere. “It won’t hurt them any. All it does is stop love,” he said briskly. He rapped the spoon against the skillet to knock off any remaining egg and let the mix simmer. “I think you’ll agree that isn’t a huge problem here. As long as the food I make stays in this castle, I’ll be happy to cook as much as y’all want.”

Shitty dimmed for a second, but Eric hardly paid him any mind. The eggs and bacon were done, so he portioned some off for three of the plates nearby and started on the next round. “Can someone grab these three? They’re all scrambled, so anyone who wants theirs different should speak up now.”

“We’re good!” The three apprentices whisked their plates away to the newly cleaned table, but didn’t immediately tuck in like Eric had expected. Instead they sat, distributing the dubiously clean silverware amongst themselves. They chatted softly, but didn’t touch their plates. Eric looked to Jack, questioning.

“I'll take mine over easy.” That was all he got from the bored looking man.

Eric gritted his teeth against a grimace. “Coming right up!” At least that was how he took his own. He could make both easily at the same time. “A little hotter, Shitty, if you don’t mind. I won’t keep those boys waiting.”

Shitty flickered and a burst of heat shot up, making Eric yelp. He glared at the skillet’s handle, his own hand smarting from the tingling heat. “You did that on purpose,” he accused. 

“I warned you,” Jack called offhandedly, and Eric’s eye twitched. He abruptly removed the skillet from the fire, letting Shitty up for good. He plated the last of the eggs and bacon sloppily, in too much of a hurry to sit down. He did not slam the platter down in front of Jack, however much he might want to. Actually, he wanted to take the plate and smash it over Jack’s stupidly handsome head-

Whoa. Eric took a deep breath, head swimming. That was really out of character for him. Jack hadn’t even done anything, so why was he so upset? He tamped down on his annoyance and set his own plate down in front of the creaking wooden chair the apprentices had found for him, right in between Dex and Nursey. They all turned to Jack.

He gestured to the table and gave them an aborted attempt at a smile. “Please, friends. Eat.”

More protein, the snarky area of Eric’s mind said. He did say something about eating more protein. 

The apprentices didn’t wait to be told twice, immediately diving for their plates. Appreciative noises filled the room and they each thanked him in turn, mouths full. Eric’s stomach rumbled in response and he scanned the table for something to eat with.

A poke to his side broke him out of his daze, and he turned to find Dex offering him the last clean fork with one hand while he shoveled in food with the other. “Thank you,” he said with a smile. “I’ll do cleanup right after this, don’t y’all worry.” He dug into his own eggs-

-and choked, only barely keeping himself from spitting them back out. They were salty . How? He hadn’t even used salt. Peeking around the table, he didn’t see any problem with the apprentice’s plates. They all seemed to be enjoying it, though he couldn’t fathom how. He finally forced himself to look at Jack, to see what he thought.

Jack took one small bite of eggs, expression unchanging. He did glance over at Eric for a brief second, but said nothing. Although, Eric noted with some trepidation, he didn’t take another taste of the eggs. He simply switched to eating his bacon.

Eric mirrored him unconsciously, and was relieved to find that the bacon, at least, was edible. If a little too salty, still . His stomach was thankful, in any case. And he also felt a little thrill of glee. With the curse in effect, Jack would never want to eat his heart now! Happy with himself, Eric ate with gusto, already thinking of getting another biscuit from his bag when he could.

The five of them ate in comfortable silence for some time, until the sound of a fork being laid down broke the silence. “So Bittle,” Jack said conversationally. “What is that you’ve got in your pocket?”

Eric looked up, fork halfway to his lips. “My pocket,” he repeated. “I don’t-” His free hand instinctively patted at his hip, and he was surprised to find something in the left pants pocket. He pulled out a small paper, folded neatly down the middle. He put down his fork and moved to open it, but Jack reached out his hand.

“Can I see that?” he asked, somehow turning the question into a demand. 

Eric shrugged and held the card out by the tips of his fingers. The moment Jack touched the paper it caught fire, combusting against their skin. Eric jerked his hand back with a frightened yelp, clutching it to his chest. “What-?”

Jack and the apprentices sat stock still, watching the crisping paper float down to the surface of the table. The paper itself disintegrated on contact, but deep scorch marks were left behind. They were made from symbols Eric didn't understand, but instinctively knew to be bad news. 

Jack tensed, a frightening look in his eyes as he stared at the markings. “That's deep magic,” he said, breathless. 

“It’s from him, isn't it?” Dex asked softly, and Eric saw that all three apprentices were stiff as boards. “The Ace of the Waste.”

“Probably. It's just like him.” Jack pitched his voice low as he interpreted the symbols, taking the time to point with one long, calloused finger so the boys could follow along. “ You who swallowed a shooting star, oh heartless man, your heart shall soon belong to me.”

Eric tilted his head to the side, trying to see how Jack could get all of that from some burns in the wood. He supposed there was a star shape in there with some lines, and a small figure that looked like a person. And that shape in between could be a heart, if he squinted. “But what does that mean?” he asked. 

Jack’s eyes snapped back up to his, like he'd forgotten Eric was there. The thrilled expression vanished, replaced with his icy mask. “It's nothing for you to worry about, Bittle. But it can't be good for the table.” He flattened out his hand. 

“Jack, no. Let me,” Nursey offered quickly. He was already rolling up his sleeves, palm outstretched. “I can get it, you don't have to.”

To Eric’s astonishment, Jack gave the apprentice a reassuring smile. “Thank you, but it's fine. It's safer for me to do it.” 

Nursey looked like he wanted to protest, but bit his tongue and withdrew his hand. “Okay. If you're sure.”

Jack nodded and took a deep, slow breath, closing his eyes. As Eric watched, he placed his palm face down on the table on one side of the marks and swiped his hand over it, like he was brushing off some stray flour. Sparks and smoke sizzled against his skin, but when he lifted his hand the table looked as good as new. 

“It's gone,” Eric breathed. And so, he realized with a jolt, was that strange wave of anger and irritation that had overtaken him. Was that- that couldn’t have been...

“Sure. But the curse is still there.” Jack abruptly stood, taking his plate with him. He went to the fireplace and dumped the rest of his breakfast into the grate. “Shitty, I need you to move the Haus sixty miles to the west, and draw some hot water for my bath. I have to go out again.”

Shitty slurped down the eggs with gusto. “Aye aye,” he said. 

Jack made his way to the stairs but seemed to remember something, pausing. “Oh, and boys? Show the new housekeeper where we keep the supplies.” Without waiting for a response, he mounted the stairs and disappeared into the darkness above.

The apprentices stared at Eric. Dex in particular looked wary of him. “You’re not working for him, are you?”

Eric jumped. He’d been watching Jack leave, and wasn’t expecting to be spoken to. “Who, Jack? I guess that was me getting officially hired.”

“He meant the Ace,” Nursey corrected. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You show up out of nowhere, not even Jack knowing who you are, and then you’ve got a threat from Kent Parson in your pants pocket. You’ve got to admit that doesn’t look good.”

Eric’s face burned in indignation. “Me, working for Kent Parson? Well I never. He’s the one who-!” 

The breath died in his throat, choking off his words. Eric let out a frustrated howl and slammed both of his fists against the table, rattling the plates. “If I ever get my hands on that man I’m going to wring his scrawny little neck!” he cried. He picked up his fork and pointed it at the apprentices with a meaningful glare. “Now finish your breakfast so I can get to work!”

“Yessir,” the boys yelped in unison. They all set to polishing off their food at a ravenous pace.

“Wow, Bitty.” Shitty cackled from the grate. “You’ve even got the Frogs scared of you. We could make you a wizard yet!”

Eric cracked a smile. “Frogs?”

A collective groan came from the apprentices. “Shitty, he wasn’t supposed to know about that,” Nursey complained.

“It’s his nickname for us,” Chowder explained grumpily. “When we first joined on with Jack, Shitty convinced us that if we messed up he would turn us into frogs.”

“The first time Chowder dropped a potion he went white as a sheet and started crying, begging Jack for forgiveness and everything.” Dex rolled his eyes, but a rough shove from Chowder knocked loose a grin. “It was kind of adorable.”

Eric observed while they chatted and finished eating, and then shooed them all upstairs for a while so he could get started. Before anything else, he had to get the castle itself clean. With Shitty telling him where to find a mop, broom, bucket, and an apron -full of holes, but doable- he rolled up his sleeves and got to work with a rag tied across the lower half of his face.

The castle wasn’t as bad as Eric had thought at first glance- it was a hundred times worse. The broom he used to knock down dust and cobwebs from the ceiling came away blackened and covered in more bugs than Eric had ever seen. They didn’t have any cleaning soap in the kitchen, but Nursey emerged from his room long enough to nobly offer some of his own before disappearing again. Eric scoured the entire floor five times total even though he ran out of soap after two, and the grate- sweet apple pie, the grate.

“There’s enough ash in here to make a new fireplace!” Eric exclaimed. He used a brush to scoop it all onto a tarp, but was stumped as to how to get the spots underneath Shitty clean until his eye fell on a kettle. “Ah, you’ll do nicely.”

“Bitty, what are you doing?” Shitty asked nervously. His eyes widened when Eric brandished the tongs at him. “Bits, buddy, come on. Don’t do this to me!”

Eric clucked his tongue and picked up the last bit of log Shitty was clinging to, gently depositing him over the top of the kettle. “Don’t whine so much. I just need to clean this last spot and you’ll be done.”

“Noooo!” Shitty flailed, trying to meld to the wood as closely as possible while Eric got the last of the ash and soot. “Bitty, Bittle, please! I’m slipping!”

“You’ll be fine.” Eric dumped the dirt onto the tarp and swept up the corners to pick up the lot of it. “I just need to throw this outside and I’ll be right back to set you straight.” He twisted the tarp corners in both hands and lugged it to the stairs. There was a small cry from behind him and a soft clicking noise somewhere above, but he paid them no mind. Grunting with exertion, he opened the door and flung the tarp open, letting the vicious winds of the Waste take away the dirt. Eric was surprised to see that the castle was moving again, and very quickly at that. 

At this rate, I’ll find a new place to live in no time. 

Eric shook the thoughts from his head. One step at a time. First he had to get this awful place clean. He shook the tarp out once more to get rid of any residual filth and stepped back inside, only to freeze at the top step. 

Jack stood ramrod straight in front of the fireplace, and he was angry. No, he was downright furious . His face was dark as a thundercloud and twice as unsettling. 

“Bittle,” he said in a tight, clipped voice. “I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to smother my friend.”

Eric stumbled a step back from the sheer force of his voice, quiet but devastating. “I-I didn't-” 

Shitty made a pathetic noise. Eric noticed that he was blazing his way through a new wood pile, presumably courtesy of Jack. The wizard turned sharply, alarmed, but relaxed once he saw that Shitty was only trying to reach another twig to gnaw on. He pushed it toward the flame with one finger to put it in reach before rounding on Eric. 

“I would think it's common sense, but apparently some things could stand to be said out loud.” Jack stepped up into Eric's personal space, still speaking so softly that Eric could hardly hear him over the pounding of his own heart. “When you remove a fire from its fuel, the fire goes out.” He punctuated the last three words with emphatic gestures toward Shitty. “Do you understand that? He is the only reason you’re here, and you almost killed him. If I didn't trust Shitty with my life, I'd kick you out into the Waste right now. So you need to get serious about this or you need to quit.”

Eric gaped up at Jack, horrified as he found himself backed up against the railing by the stairs with nowhere to go. He clenched his jaw and bit back the angry tears that hollowed his chest and reddened his vision. He couldn't back down, couldn't crumple because of this and let Jack see him weak and scared- though goodness, was he scared.

“I understand,” he spat, voice strained but steady. “It won't happen again.”

“You've got that right.” Jack finally backed off of Eric, if only to grab a black trenchcoat from the hook by the door. “Shitty, I'm going out. I want at least one of the boys down here at any available minute to keep an eye on things.”

“‘Kay, have fun.” Shitty said dazedly. He sounded like he was floating, and his eyes remained fixed on a specific point in empty space. 

Jack sent one final glare Eric’s way, huffed, and descended the stairs. The dial above the door turned to black once again, and he disappeared through the door. Only, to Eric’s shock, he didn't see the Waste through the open doorway. He couldn't see anything. But before he could comment, the door closed behind Jack and the dial turned back to green. He was gone again.

Little by little, Eric forced his body to disengage. His fists gradually unfurled and hung limp at his sides, sore from the impressions his nails had made on his palms. His chest deflated, leaving him feeling wrung out. Finally, he unlocked his knees and let himself fall onto the sofa, head back against the cushions. 

“What the deep fried hell was that? Did I really almost kill you?” he asked after a few minutes. 

“Well, yes and no.” Shitty sounded a little better now, less likely to float away like a wisp. But he still sounded pretty miffed with Eric.  “It wouldn’t have only been me. Jack felt it in his heart when you took me out of here, and it wasn't comfortable for anyone involved.”

Eric didn’t know what to make of that. Shitty, sensing his confusion and distress, softened his tone. “I know you were only trying to help, but there are some things here that are better left alone. I’m one of them, and pretty much everything else has to do with Jack. He’s a private guy. Doesn’t exactly wear his heart on his sleeve, if you catch my drift.”

“Why didn’t he fire me?” Eric asked. “Why- why am I even alive right now? He’s Wizard Jack! He could blast me into dust with one word, couldn’t he?”

“One syllable, my good man. And I taught him everything he knows,” Shitty preened. 

“So why didn’t he?”

The fire demon heaved a flickering sigh and sank low into the clean pile of wood. “I hate to spoil whatever trashy rumors you heard out there in Market Chipping, but Jack isn’t a dark wizard, Bitty. I don’t think he’s got a bad bone in that gorgeous body of his.”

“That may well be, but-” Eric froze, color rising to his cheeks as he registered Shitty’s words. “I beg your pardon?”

Shitty snickered. “You heard me the first time. You agreed, too. But that’s not important right now. The point is- yes, Jack could kill you. And I guess if he really wanted his precious protein badly enough he would ‘eat your heart’,” he said with a scoff. “But he won’t. He never wants to hurt anyone again.”

“... Again?” Eric asked tentatively. “What on earth do you mean by that?”

“Sorry Bits, can’t specify. It’s in the bylaws.”

Eric was going to push for more, but a nearby squeak had his head whipping around to the staircase. All three apprentices were staring at him in horror.

“You made Jack yell ,” Nursey said reverently. “The last time I heard him that loud was when Camilla dumped him. What did you do?”

“He suggested pie for breakfast,” Shitty interjected. “Jack nearly had a heart attack just thinking about all the protein that he’d be missing out on.”

That broke the odd tension in the room. Chowder snickered and Dex and Nursey both relaxed enough to smile. Eric felt his shoulders gradually loosen. If Shitty was already cracking jokes, he ought to be fine. And Eric would be fine, too. All he had to do was prove that he could hold his own. 

He clapped his hands once to get the Frogs’ attention. “Alright, boys. My mama didn’t raise no half-baked cleaner, so anything you don’t want me to scrub you’d better hide.”

The looks on their faces as they sprinted up the stairs sent a surge of confidence and power through him. Chowder paused at the top of the landing, his face pale in the shadows, and shot him an imploring glance. “Leave my room for last, okay Bitty? Promise?”

Eric only smiled and made a shooing motion with his hands. Chowder gulped and ran to join his roommates in what sounded like a very frantic cleanup process.

Wizard Jack might be the master of this castle, but Eric was going to give him a run for his money.

Chapter Text

Even with all of the preliminary work he’d done downstairs, Bitty struggled to clean deeply enough for his satisfaction. The downstairs of the Haus was clean enough, sure, but it was still cluttered and even the clutter had its own filth to be dealt with. He was grateful when the Frogs started turning up, one after the other, to help him with odds and ends.

He discovered books stashed in every crevice and alcove that needed dusting, and cleaned up each one individually before giving them to Nursey to organize. While he was working on the kitchen, Chowder showed him stains that had been there so long that the boys had named them , goodness gracious, and so he set the boy to the task of scrubbing the counters and cabinets. 

From the glimpses he got of the pantry, he was pleased to see that it was well stocked with standard cooking ingredients- although scant amounts of sugar and not a dollop of butter left in sight. He mentally added shopping to his list of things to do and went back to work. 

Bitty had just finished washing the last of the dishes when someone behind him cleared their throat. He turned, up to his elbows in gray-brown water, to find a lost-looking Dex standing behind him. “Why, hello. Did you need something?”

Dex flushed. “Uh, no. Just. I can help you put those where they go, if you want.”

Compared to his earlier distrust, Bitty was willing to call that a victory. He nodded and reached for the dry cloth. “Thanks, honey. I’ll dry and hand them off, how’s that sound?”

“‘Swawesome.” 

They worked in silence for a few moments before Bitty worked up the nerve to ask the question that had been weighing on his mind since he woke up. “Y’all keep saying that. ‘Swawesome,” he repeated clumsily, the word twisting on his tongue. “What’s it mean?”

Dex shrugged, reaching around Chowder to open up an overhead cabinet and stack up some bowls. “It’s like ‘so awesome’ all mashed up together. You know, like ‘That’s ‘Swawesome!’ I don’t remember where it came from. Probably Shitty.”

“It’s cool, isn’t it?!” Chowder beamed. “I think it’s cool.”

Bitty couldn’t help but grin. “It’s certainly something. And you can stop now, the cabinets look just fine. Why don’t you help Dex with the dishes so I can get started upstairs?” The cabinets did not , in fact, look fine, but that was far from Chowder’s fault. Bitty could get it clean later when they had the proper soap.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Shitty’s voice called from the grate. “The Frogs’ rooms are fine, but you should stay away from Jack’s room. And the bathroom,” he added after a pensive pause. “Trust me when I say you don’t wanna mess with anything you find up there.”

Bitty rolled his eyes, expecting the Frogs to laugh along with Shitty’s bathroom humor, but they were all totally silent. Even Nursey had stopped organizing his texts to look at him with worried eyes. 

“Alright,” he said slowly. He laid down his dishrag and made a show of stretching. “We’ve worked hard, so I think this is a good stopping place for today. How about I fix up some lunch?”

The apprentices let out enthusiastic whoops and scampered to get their coats from the door, abandoning their work. Bitty blinked. “Boys?” he called, confused. “Where do y’all think you’re going?”

“The eggs and bacon were all we had left,” Dex explained from inside of his coat. It was overlarge, Bitty noted, and the same dark black as Jack’s. He wondered if it might have been Jack’s at one point, it was so large on him. When Dex worked his way out of the headhole, red hair sticking up everywhere, it with a wide smile. “So we’re going out to market. You’re coming, right? You’ll have to tell us what you’ll need to cook.”

“Market?” Bitty was sure he must be hearing wrong. “What markets do they have out in the Waste?”

The Frogs stopped. They looked at one another. And then they burst into heaving, honking laughter. Chowder actually sank to his knees, he was laughing so hard. 

Bitty’s cheeks burned. “Now just what is so funny? Is this some wizard joke?”

Dex found his composure before the other two, though his amber eyes still sparkled with mirth. “I didn’t realize no one gave you the tour,” he said, half-apologetic. “You see that dial over there above the door? There’s a matching one on the handle.”

Recalling the wheel from before, Bitty hopped down the steps to inspect the doorknob. Sure enough, there was a small green circle above a brass knob set into the door’s handle. “So what does it do?” he wondered. “Is there a different color for each of you to use?”

“What?” Nursey’s brows knitted together in confusion before he let out a sound of understanding. “Ah. You saw Jack come and go through the black door. He’s the only one who uses that one, but we don’t have assigned colors.”

“Although the blue one is my favorite,” Chowder quickly added. He practically buzzed in his excitement. “Go on Bitty, turn it!”

Shrugging, Bitty turned the knob a quarter turn to the right. The green blob of paint was replaced by a blue one, and the wheel above the door swung around accordingly with a metallic scrape. A cloud passed in front of the sun, leaving the front windows dark. Bitty looked up expectantly only to find the Frogs waiting on him. 

“Was that all I had to do?” he asked.

“Just open it already!” Shitty shouted.

Bitty rolled his eyes and pulled on the door. “My word,” he breathed. “This certainly isn’t the way I came in.”

He’d been prepared to see empty Waste. Instead, he looked out onto a busy harbor full of sailboats. They weren’t standing on the stoop of a moving castle, but that of a modest stone house not far from the docks. Even under an overcast sky, the ocean sparkled and roiled in majestic waves. Seagulls cried out overhead and swooped to and fro, and Bitty could even hear the distant clamor of salesmen peddling their wares. He looked up and saw a simple wooden sign over their door- Jacob Robertson and Co., Charms and Cures.

“Welcome to Porthaven,” Dex said, deadpan. “If you want to have fish tonight, we’d better get to the markets before they get too crowded. Or worse, before they sell all of the fresh stuff.”

“Looks like rain too,” Nursey pointed out. He jerked his chin up toward the dark clouds rolling over the harbor. “We’ll have to be quick. Come on Bitty, get your coat on and let’s go.”

Bitty blinked and shook his head roughly, shaking off his shock. “I don’t know if my old jacket will stand up to this sea wind, boys. It barely held up in the Waste.”

“No problem!” Nursey grabbed yet another identical coat from the rack and scooped up Bitty’s bag as well before handing them both over. “You can use this one. We always have an extra around.”

Wrinkling his nose, Bitty accepted the coat. “Don’t y’all think it’s a little… conspicuous? Four young men walking around in all black like this?” Still, he shrugged it on. Warmth instantly seeped deep into his bones, startling in its suddenness and completeness. “Oh, wow.”

“Jack helped us enchant all of our coats,” Chowder proclaimed. “If that doesn’t keep you warm, nothing will!”

“They’re pretty great, yeah, but we really do need to get going if we want lunch.” Dex herded them all out of the doorway and locked up behind them with a little brass key. Bitty was intrigued to see multiple keys on the ring, all quite different from one another. He realized the other two dials on the doorknob must lead somewhere else as well, and determined that he would find out where as soon as they returned. 

For now, he was content to take in all the sights and sounds of Porthaven. Fishermen were just coming in from their long morning on the water, hauling fish and crustaceans by the netful. As they approached the docks the shouts grew louder, and Bitty found himself surrounded by unfamiliar goods- oiled hemp rope, waterproof lanterns, semaphore flags and more were being bargained for by the crowds that thronged thickly on the docks. And the ocean loomed behind it all, imposing in its vastness. 

Nursey trailed alongside him, seemingly in agreement with the other apprentices- they would go ahead and find a vendor while Nursey stuck with the starry-eyed blond. “Have you never seen the ocean before?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious. 

Bitty shook his head and laughed as a seagull landed on a nearby woman’s outrageously large hat. “I actually came here once with my daddy. I was real young, but I remember the driftwood fires and how big the ocean was. I’d never seen that much water in my life.”

“Yeah, I get that. It’s enough to make you feel like a grain of sand, huh?” Nursey hummed thoughtfully before reaching for his coat pocket. He drew out a bit of paper and some charcoal and scribbled something before tucking them both securely back in place. At Bitty’s questioning look, he winked. “I write,” he explained. “When I think of things I like, I write them down for later.”

“A writer?” Bitty put a hand to his heart. “Don't tell me Jack trains you in poetry?”

Nursey laughed. “Well, sometimes. Jack says it’s a useful exercise. I'm a spell-writer. I do sigils too, sometimes,” he added, rolling up his sleeve to display one of his tattoos. 

Still walking along the docks, Bitty crowded in close and held onto the back of Nursey’s coat so he could look closer. What had originally looked like swirling lines he now recognized as interconnecting symbols from the covers of Jack’s books. 

“This one’s for warding off demons. Jack says it's one of my best.” Nursey sounded so proud when he spoke that Bitty felt proud, too. 

“That's incredible,” he said, and Nursey rewarded him with a flushed and pleased smile. 

“Hey, slowpokes!” a voice called in their direction. Dex and Chowder waved from a few yards down the marketplace, and Bitty and Nursey trotted up to meet them. Chowder held a newspaper wrapped bundle in his arms, which he presented for Bitty’s inspection. “We got some bass! Dex says it’s really, really fresh! Can we have it for lunch?”

He remembered the day his father had taught him to clean a fish. If he hadn’t already cried over all of the messy business, the stench would have made him tear up. Bitty cautiously peeled back the corner of the newspaper and was surprised to find that Chowder was right- the fish were so fresh that they didn’t smell funny at all. “Chowder,” he said in an awed voice. “We can have it for as many meals as you want if it’s all this good.”

Chowder and Nursey exchanged excited looks while Dex paid the fisherman. Bitty hadn’t even thought about money, but he recognized the soft cloth bag that Dex held in his hands- it had a place on the mantle in the Haus. The older man caught the silver piece thrown his way and threw a copper back with no hesitation. When Dex tried to protest he shook his head. “You boys keep our boats afloat,” he insisted, the coastal accent strong in his deep voice. “At my stall, the least I can give you is the family price.”

“But-!”

“Thank you very much,” Bitty interjected. “Boys, let’s make our way back before this squall hits.” He nodded politely to the fisherman and gestured for the apprentices to go ahead of him and lead the way back to the Haus. Dex reluctantly slipped the copper piece back into the coin purse and set out from the docks at a brisk pace.

The rain began to fall just as they escaped the crowds. Chowder threw his hood up and tucked the wrapped fish inside his coat, and they all ran for the Haus. As he ducked inside, Bitty was delighted but not surprised to find that when he hung his coat it was completely dry. Enchanted, indeed. 

He rolled up his sleeves and picked up the frying pan from where he and Dex left it near the sink. “Alright boys,” he said, feeling steady on his feet for the first time all day. “Let’s get cooking.” 

The Frogs, as it turned out, were excellent listeners. Bitty had each of them assigned to a task, and they hung on his every word with a single-minded focus that was almost scary in its intensity. After receiving their instructions they disbanded to different corners of the kitchen; Dex to clean the fish, Nursey to prepare the breading, and Chowder to whip together a nice sauce to go with the meal. Chowder worked with dedication and focus, only leaving once to answer the door- another messenger, apparently from Kingsbury of all places. 

Bitty himself supervised, giving pointers here and there that were immediately accepted with thanks. 

When he was satisfied that the boys were well on their way, Bitty turned back to the pantry and eyed the ingredients there. If he scraped up every last grain of that sugar, he just might be able to…

He groaned suddenly and let the pantry door fall closed. How could he have overlooked such a crucial thing? “Y'all don't have an oven.”

Dex looked up from the fillets he was slicing and shook his head. “No. Shitty is our stove, but we don't have an oven. I mean, Jack is a wizard. There isn't a lot of baking going on around here, if you know what I mean.”

“I am not your stove!” Shitty bellowed dramatically. Bitty ignored him. 

“Well, I was going to try to cobble together some dessert for us,” Bitty sighed. “But I suppose that'll have to wait until I can get out to a green market and an oven. Do we have any canned greens? Fruits?”

“Yeah.” Nursery pointed to one of the lower cabinets, his hands tacky with flour. “There are green beans in there. And some other stuff, but I don't know what it is or how long it's been there.”

Bitty chewed the inside of his cheek, thinking. “Then there's nothing for it. Green beans it is,” he decided. He grabbed three mason jars from the cabinet, avoiding the ones that looked orangey-yellow with a grimace. He popped the tops off of the cans and poured the contents into a big stirring pot. Dipping one finger into the pot, Bitty tasted it. The beans were good and fresh, but lacked seasoning. 

“Chowder-”

“Herbs are in the back of the pantry,” Chowder replied cheerfully. “I used some for this sauce, but there's plenty of pepper left, if you like that?”

Bitty smiled. “Pepper sounds perfect. You almost done with that sauce?”

“Yep!”

“Breader’s done too,” Nursey put in. “Dex?”

“Done.” Dex brought his platter of fish over to where Nursey stood and together they began to coat the pieces in the floury mix. It fascinated him to watch them work. For all of the bickering they did over silly things like who showered first in the morning, their hands moved in tandem like they could predict the other’s movements before they happened. In no time, the slick surface of the pan was completely covered in battered fish and ready to fry.

“Thanks, you two!” Bitty grinned. Using both hands, he carried the pan into the living room. 

Shitty flared up in annoyance. “I have to cook for you again?”

Bitty shook his head “I’m the one doing all the cooking, mister. All you have to do is sit there and look pretty. But if you’re good, you can have the little burnt bits of breading as a snack when I’m finished. Deal?”

“Deal,” Shitty sighed in resignation. He obediently lowered his head and let Bitty cook over him. The fish sizzled in the pan, and soon the whole Haus smelled like the nice mix of spices in the breader. 

Bitty was almost done when he heard a soft click and whirl behind him. He turned just in time to see the dial spin from blue to black, and to see Jack walk across the threshold and climb the front steps. His ice blue eyes settled on Bitty and grew even colder. 

“Jack’s home!” Someone in the kitchen shouted, and the Frogs clamored to the stairs to ask their mentor about what he’d done while he was out and tell him about the messages that had arrived for him. Jack’s attention diverted to his students, his concentration splintering.

Bitty broke out of Jack’s stare and whirled back around to watch the pan, his cheeks burning. He didn’t care if those sweet boys adored Jack, or that they obviously loved learning from him. He was still a- a- well, he was something his mama wouldn’t care for him to think about anybody, not even a wizard. 

“I see that look,” Shitty crackled up at him. “I hate to break it to you kiddo, but I wouldn't bother. Jack may not be a dark wizard, but he’d still probably break your heart without even meaning to.”

Bitty yelped, his hands slipping on the pan handle. Nothing fell into the fire, but he did end up with a minor burn on his wrist for his troubles. He hissed curses under his breath, most of them aimed at Shitty. “That is absolutely not what I was thinking!” he seethed. 

“I can't blame you though,” Shitty went on as if nothing had happened, sneaking sly glances around Bitty to where the Frogs still had Jack distracted. “If I was one of those lucky demons that got a physical form… That's a whole lot of man over there. I know it's hard to tell with all of the swishy-flowy stuff, but Jacky boy’s got muscles. And let me tell you, the biggest one-”

“Haha, Shitty.” Bitty froze. He hadn’t felt or heard Jack sneaking up behind him, but there he was at his elbow, looking down over his shoulder. “I really do wish you’d stop talking about my butt to anyone who’ll listen. It’s not actually that big.”

Shitty’s flame spluttered wildly in indignation. “Excuse you, but I’ll have you know that I was going to say it was your heart . You wound me, old friend. You wound me deep.”

Bitty peeked up through his eyelashes to try and gauge Jack’s reaction. He didn’t smile at Shitty’s joke… but then again he wasn’t frowning anymore, either. Maybe he was over his mood from that morning. “Um,” Bitty said. “We’re having bass for lunch. There’s more left to fry in the kitchen, if you’d like. Oh, and some green beans. I wasn’t sure if you’d be back before tonight.”

There was a pause. Then Jack offered him a grimacing smile. “Thank you,” he said shortly. “Bass is fine. And for future reference, I try to eat with my apprentices as often as possible. Dinner and breakfast aren’t a guarantee, but lunch… I’m almost always here.” 

It was the first civil thing Jack had said to him since Bitty had arrived in the Haus. Quietly satisfied, he called for the boys to bring him their plates. Once everyone had gotten a glass of water and was seated, Jack broke some bread and the meal began.

Lunch was a quick and thankfully not overly salted affair, and Bitty learned a little bit from the table conversation. Jack had, apparently, visited another wizard out in the country for the morning. Chowder in particular seemed eager for details, and Bitty picked up pretty quickly that it was because of one of the wizard’s apprentices.

“Aw come on, Jack,” Nursey said with a grin. “Aren’t you going to tell us all about the way her hair shines in the sun?”

“Or how pretty her eyes are?” Dex added, smirking as he elbowed a flaming red Chowder in the ribs. “I want to hear all about that.”

“Guys!” Chowder blushed and hid his face behind his hands. “That’s not what I meant! All I did was ask who Jack saw! I know Jack doesn’t- I mean he wouldn’t-!”

“I don’t know, C.” Nursey pondered thoughtfully, tapping his finger against the stubble on his chin. “Jack has been going over to see Seb a lot lately. How do we know he isn’t wooing his new apprentice on the sly?”

Even Jack had to hide a small smile behind a- clean- forkful of fish. Bitty shook his head with a sigh. He understood a little bit of teasing, sure, but this seemed a little extreme. “I wouldn’t worry about it, honey,” he told Chowder. He made sure to choose his words carefully. “There are a lot of rumors floating around about Jack in this end of Ingary, so I’m sure your sweetheart isn’t interested in Jack that way, either.”

“She’s not my-!” Chowder clapped a hand over his own mouth, looking distraught. 

Jack raised an eyebrow and put down his fork, lacing his fingers together under his chin. “Really?” He said with an amused look. “Maybe I should go check on her sometime, then. I could let Sebastian know that I forgot something in his study and take an afternoon trip back to Fairfax.”

Bitty made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat. He didn’t really appreciate that kind of talk. Jack might not actually eat young girls’ hearts- or so Shitty said- but that didn’t mean it was any better to string some poor girl along.

Jack’s eyes flitted to his, and all of the mirth drained from them so quickly that Bitty’s mouth went dry. The wizard pushed away his nearly empty plate and stood, taking his scraps over for Shitty to share. “I’ll need a bath, Shitty. Our new housekeeper didn't mess anything up, did he?”

“I was… encouraged to leave the bathroom alone,” Bitty answered for himself. “But I’m sure you’re delighted to have clean cutlery and an organized bookshelf. I was going to do the rest of the upstairs tonight before dinner, if I have enough time.”

As if only just remembering, Jack looked around to examine the work Bitty and the boys had done. The last of the books still needed shelving, but they were clean and organized. There wasn’t a cobweb in sight. The floors, in spite of Bitty’s initial judgment, were actually a very pretty shade of reddish-brown. After only half a day, the place looked much more presentable and cared for.

“Nice lunch, Bittle.” Jack gave him a curt nod. “Fish has lots of protein in it.” Then he turned, tunic billowing, and mounted the stairs to take his bath.

“You’re welcome,” Bitty managed to say to the empty air. He hadn’t really expected any praise, but… that was still a little harsh, wasn’t it?

Shitty’s eyes sparkled at him from his perch between the firewood. He looked entirely too smug for someone who was supposedly heating up water for someone’s bath. “So Bitty,” he started.

Bitty shot him a withering glare and stood up from the table with a sudden clatter. “Alright, boys. What I said before stands. If you don’t want me touching it, you’d better have it clean by the time I finish with the dishes.”

Chowder and Nursey exchanged mildly panicked looks, but Dex only rolled his eyes. “I’ll help with cleanup,” he offered as he himself stood, proceeding to pick up plates and utensils from the table. “It’s only fair, since they were helping you clean down here earlier while I tidied up my side of the room. It’ll go faster that way.” He glanced over at his fellow apprentices with a poorly smothered chuckle. “You guys had better hurry. Especially you, Chowder, if you don’t want Bitty finding all of your love letters.”

“You what?!” And “fuuuuuuuuu-” were the only sounds Bitty heard above the pounding of feet toward the staircase. He smiled to himself.

Dex met his eyes and smiled back.

Cleanup took little time with Dex helping him. They fell into the same routine as before, Bitty washing the dishes and Dex drying them and putting them away. Bitty would learn where everything went (and maybe even make some changes, if he could) but until then he was content to work out some of his energy on the plates and forks in the sink. He wasn’t heartless- he would wait a little bit before making his way upstairs to clean the bedrooms.

“I need to make a list of things to buy at the market,” he said out loud. “I take it that this is the only dish soap we have?”

Dex nodded and stooped down to put the frying pan away in a cabinet under the sink. “You said we needed more cleaning supplies, too. And fruits and vegetables.”

Bitty hummed and pulled the plug from the drain, drying his hands on a nearby rag. “That’s right. And some more flour, some sugar, butter…” he trailed off, frowning. That was an awful lot, considering he didn’t have more than a couple of silver coins on his person. He couldn’t pay for it all, but he couldn’t just have Dex and his coin purse cover all of it because they weren’t all necessarily household essentials.

Dex seemed to read his mind. He nodded to where the bag sat on the mantle and said, “That’s our food budget for the rest of the month, adjusted for another person in the Haus. Jack has the rest, but as far as he’s concerned we’re allowed to use whatever we need as long as we do it responsibly and don’t run out before the end of the month.”

Bitty hesitated. “I don’t have much to pay Jack back with.”

Dex shrugged. “You shouldn’t have to. If you’ve got anything to add to it that’d be swawesome, but since you’re already cooking and cleaning it should be fine.” He walked over to the workbench and pulled free a sheet of parchment and a quill, pushing the ink pot across the surface of the desk to Bitty. “Here. I'm going to go help Nurse.”

“Thank you. I’m glad to know just what I’ll be working with,” Bitty answered. He quickly jotted down the items they’d listed on the parchment, along with how many of each thing they’d need. 

In spite of the circumstances, he felt himself grinning, and bouncing from foot to foot as he wrote. Cooking breakfast and lunch was one thing- baking was another altogether. Already he missed his kitchen, with its great brick ovens and plethora of implements to use as he pleased. He stole a wistful glance at Shitty, who still flickered brightly in the fireplace. If only he were inside of a magical oven.

I can go back, he told himself. Just as soon as I get this darn curse off of me.

He sat down the quill, satisfied with his list so far. They could add more later if they needed to. He set the parchment in the center of the dining room table and once again rolled up his sleeves. It was time to get to work on the upstairs.

“Jack’s still in the bathroom,” Shitty reminded him. 

“I heard y’all the first time. No touching the shampoo, I get it!” Bitty grabbed the tarp he’d shaken out earlier and the broom, slamming the butt end down on the bottom step twice before yelling, “Time’s up, boys! I’m coming up!”

He ignored the panicked wailing that started up above his head and mounted the stairs. They creaked an inordinate amount, but held firm enough for him to make his way up to the next floor. The landing opened up into a narrow hallway, with a door on each end and two more in the middle. And one in the middle of the wall opposite the stairs. It had a small, grimy window through which weak daylight filtered in- a balcony perhaps? From the noise and steam coming from the closest door on his left, he deduced that it must be the bathroom. The door at the end of that side was shut tight. He turned to his right instead.

The first door popped open and Chowder’s dark head poked out. “Just one more minute please! Sorry!” He slammed the door closed once again just as the last door opened. Dex and Nursey walked out, taking up the entirety of the narrow walkspace.

Bitty raised an eyebrow. “You two share a room?”

Dex’s ears burned red and he scowled in Bitty’s direction. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Only that I’m surprised one of you hasn’t died!” He exclaimed. “The way the both of you were fighting this morning, I thought for sure that you were rooming with Chowder.”

Visibly deflating, Dex gave him an apologetic smile. “Yeah, you’d think. But we only had that one room to begin with, you know? So when Chowder got here we were already sharing, and the easiest thing to do was to let Chowder have the new room. He needs all the space he can get, anyway.”

“That’s an understatement,” Nursey laughed. If he felt the need to explain how they acquired an extra room in the building, he didn’t share it. “But anyway, I think we’re ready. I just had to make sure all of my work was put away properly. You can go and inspect now.”

Bitty thanked them and stepped back, letting the apprentices go by him so he would have room to get down the hall. They trundled down the stairs and almost instantly started up their banter once again, over what sounded like what constituted ‘work’ and what constituted ‘those stupid poems you write in the middle of the night that keep me awake, you ass.’

Bitty braced himself for what he might see, opened the door, and… 

Huh. He’d expected more of a catastrophe. But aside from some messily stacked papers on one desk and an open box of grassy stuff on the other, there was very little Bitty could see out of the ordinary. Even though he couldn’t confirm since he couldn’t see the top bunk, it looked like both of the boys had even made their beds. With a quick sweep under the bed and desks, and maybe a good washing to the window, it would be a perfectly tidy room indeed. 

Bitty stepped in with the broom and began to sweep, collecting dust bunnies, chalk dust, and a few stray pencil shavings that Nursey obviously hadn't seen under his desk. He looked over at the low bookshelf that was nestled in the corner, expecting its contents to be covered in dust, but found the books to be well loved from use. Bundling his findings in the tarp, he glanced back at the window. The boys obviously worked hard to tidy up- would window washing be too nitpicking? He couldn't even see through it, although that could be fog now that he thought about it. Undoing the sticky latch at the bottom of the window pane, Bitty heaved upwards and the window opened to let in a blast of hot, fast moving air. His bangs whipped in his face from the force of it, but it was the view that took Bitty’s breath away.

This window didn’t face the ocean, or even Market Chipping. All he could see for miles was the Waste, and some more mountains in the distance. The Haus’s huge mechanical legs carried them across a hundred yards with each stride, moving the entire building at an incredible pace that set Bitty’s heart racing.

“My stars,” Bitty breathed. He let the window fall shut and raced out of the room and halfway down the stairs, clutching at the railing in his haste. “Shitty! Are you the one moving the castle?”

“Of course. None of these losers do any work around here,” Shitty shouted back. 

“Well I am certainly impressed! You are a grade-A fire demon, you know that? I like your spark!” Bitty ran back upstairs and didn't hesitate before opening the door by the landing. It did indeed lead out onto a balcony, and as he stepped out he saw more than he had through the little window. They were approaching a huge, sparkling lake ringed by mountains. 

The door swung in the wind behind him until someone stepped out and closed it. A grinning Chowder joined Bitty at the low railing and pointed. “That's Star Lake! We go there sometimes to do laundry and swim. Have you ever been?”

“Honey, I don't even know where in Ingary we are right now,” Bitty replied. But it was a lovely looking place all the same. It looked secluded and relaxing, sheltered by the mountains. “Does anyone live out here?” he asked, tentatively hopeful. 

Chowder shook his head. “No one wants to. They're too scared of witches, and it doesn’t help that the Waste is right over the mountains from the closest town.”

“That's a darn shame.”

“It really is.” Chowder leaned forward further, catching sight of something beyond the railing. “Huh. That's weird. What's that big branch doing here?”

Branch? They were leagues from any forest. But Bitty followed Chowder’s gaze and, sure enough, there was a long branch of wood sticking out of a crevice in the Haus’s joints. He narrowed his eyes. “I don't think that's a branch. Here, give me a hand,” he said. 

Together, the two of them reached over and grabbed the stick, pulling and levering until, as Bitty had suspected, Potato Head emerged from the hole. 

“A scarecrow?” Chowder asked, bewildered. Tater abruptly turned his smiling head toward the sound and spun, propelling himself up to balance on the end of his stick. “A magic scarecrow!” the apprentice corrected himself. “What's it doing here?”

“I don't really know, but he seems to like following me places. And he always manages to get stuck upside down! I've been calling him Potato Head,” Bitty explained. He waved up at the scarecrow. “Nice to see you. Thanks again for the help.”

Potato Head hopped in place in response before leaping up to a higher point on the Haus’s hodgepodge roof. He planted his stick and swayed in the wind, not moving again. 

Chowder fixed Bitty with a searching look. “You're absolutely sure you're not a wizard?”

Bitty thought of Jack, with his cold eyes and strange enemies; of the Ace and his malicious magic; of the Frogs and Shitty, and the way they laughed and joked with one another like a family. 

“Yes,” Bitty said firmly. “I'm about as far away from a wizard as you can get.”

Chowder shrugged. “Okay. But hey, my room is ready! Do you wanna see?”

It was… an experience, seeing Chowder’s room for the first time. To begin with, the only clear space was on the bed that sat at the back of the dimly lit room, along with a battered old trunk. The walls were floor to ceiling shelves, and held a number of aquariums. Each glass box held countless and varied kinds of sea creatures. Some seemed familiar to Bitty, like the cute little goldfish swimming laps in a bowl, but others he had never seen before.

Bitty bent down to squint at a tank that was infused with a watery blue glow. Sheets upon sheets of parchment covered in scrawling notes sat neatly beside it, all in words Bitty had never seen before. “What is all of this? Are these your pets?”

“Those are moon urchins!” Chowder exclaimed. “And not really. I study magical creatures! We don’t really know much about the aquatic ones yet because the ocean is just so huge but that’s what’s so cool about it! I can find out new things just from observing them.”

Bitty blinked up at Chowder. It was so far from what he was expecting from the boyish young man. “Well, that’s wonderful sugar. Seems to me like you’re the leader in the field.”

Chowder flushed with pride. “I do my best. Jack says if I keep compiling and documenting all of my research, I can present it to Georgia when I’m a more established wizard.”

“Georgia?” Bitty asked, the name unfamiliar to him. “Who or what is Georgia?”

“What!” Chowder gasped. “She- Georgia’s the most- she’s the royal wizard! How do you not know about the royal wizard?!”

Bitty raised his hands in defense. “Okay, I’m sorry! I’m sure she’s very awesome and powerful. But I need to get back to work- yes, honey, your room is just fine, I’ll leave it alone- so we’ll have to talk about that over dinner.”

“Okay,” Chowder agreed, but as Bitty left the room he caught a whispered, “ Doesn’t know about the royal wizard!!” Bitty rolled his eyes fondly and stepped back out onto the landing. 

The sound of running water had stopped. No more steam filtered out from under the bathroom door. Bitty eyed the doorway warily. It was apparently the only bathroom in the Haus, shared by four- now five- men. It had been some time since he’d relieved himself. He might as well pop in and see what he was dealing with.

What he was dealing with, it turned out, was a disaster zone. Bitty bit back a cry of disbelief at the sheer number and variety of stains on the bathtub. There were vials and bottles of every shape and color strewn across the rim, some uncorked and on their side. The mirrored cabinet had dulled in the face of steam and soap scum, to say nothing of the yellowed porcelain sink underneath. With its leaky faucets and sticky-looking drain, it was more likely to make hands dirty than clean.

Bitty worried his lip between his teeth. He’d been warned several times not to clean this room, but this was beyond a little clutter. It was just plain unhealthy. For crying out loud, there was some sort of pink and green juice gathered in the bottom of the tub! Rolling up his sleeves once again, Bitty took a deep breath and shut himself in the bathroom.

Chapter Text

Jack was gone by the time Bitty came back downstairs, but the Frogs had been busy in his absence. The piles of books were finally shelved, and Bitty gasped when he saw that there had been an addition to the fireplace. “Boys, what is this?”

Chowder was the first to poke his head out of the kitchen. “Oh, I found that in the top of the pantry while I made the spices. I didn’t think to get it down before, but Dex said you asked about an oven. Will that work?”

Bitty couldn’t answer- his mouth had adopted an impression of a hole in the ground. The thing that Chowder had found was a small construction of brick and clay sitting to the far side of the fireplace. There was no bottom, but a metal shelf hung suspended halfway up inside the structure, held by thin, flat sheets of metal attached to the inside. It had probably been made to smoke meats, but Bitty reckoned that with, say, a sentient heat source on his side…

Bitty looked incredulously at Shitty, who was hunkered low over his wood pile. “Shitty, you agreed to this? Really?”

The fire demon flickered pink and sank even lower. “... you said you liked my spark. I guess it’s alright, as long as you let me have all your eggshells.”

Turning back to the small oven, Bitty held out his hands, palms apart the length of a pie dish. It would fit perfectly. He could bake again.

Bitty sent the boys out to market with strict instructions. “Chowder, I want you to find me some good red and green apples, rhubarb, pecans, and blueberries. Oh, and strawberries! That’ll be enough to start. Watch the prices, but don’t sacrifice the quality. Dex, go with him and buy some proper utensils- we are in desperate need of more forks and spoons, and don’t forget to look for soap so we can actually use them- and if you find an actual pie dish I promise I will make you whatever you like. We still have some sugar and flour left, but if you find more you can pick some of that up, too.” He scribbled it all down on the list from before and tore half off, handing it to Dex. 

“Okay, Bitty!” Chowder took his share of the food money and disappeared through the door into Kingsbury, which Bitty now knew represented the red section of the dial. Dex followed quickly behind. “We’ll be back before dinner time,” he promised as he went, and the door closed. 

Bitty turned to Nursey with another portion of money and the other half of the list. “There’s a farm near Porthaven’s fishing market, isn’t there? I need eggs, milk, and butter. Lots and lots of butter. You’ll need to be quick and get it back here before anything starts to get too warm. It could still be raining out there too, so be careful. Oh, and I suppose we’ll need some meat for dinner. I’m sure you know Jack’s protein requirements better than I do, so I’ll leave that to your discretion. Can you handle that on your own?”

“Chyeah,” Nursey said. He pocketed the coins and donned his coat with a lazy salute. “Bet you I can even beat Dex back here.”

“You mean Dex and Chowder,” Bitty said, amused.

“Yeah, them. Be back soon.” Nursey turned the dial to the blue circle and stepped out into the salty air. The breeze slammed the door shut behind him, but the edge of his coat got caught in the doorframe. Bitty heard a yelp and a crash, Nursey wrestled the fabric out, and then he was gone.

Shitty laughed, a crackling of sparks and embers. “Don’t worry about him too much. He’s always a little bit of a disaster, especially when he and Dex go at it. You should have seen last week’s potions lesson.”

“What happened there?”

Shitty’s flaming green eyes pointed meaningfully at the horrendous sofa Bitty slept on the night before, and Bitty held up a hand. “Never mind, I don’t want to know. Is there anywhere else for me to clean or am I free to do dinner prep?”

“You might want to go grab a pillow or something from the closet before you start,” Shitty suggested. “Once everyone’s had dinner, you won’t want to be moving around the Haus too much. Dinner to bedtime is when the Frogs do all of their usual work, and it’s worse when we have customers.”

In all of the excitement over his oven, Bitty had almost forgotten that Jack and the boys apparently ran a business selling charms and potions. “Is there that much of a demand in Porthaven?” He asked.

“Porthaven, Kingsbury, Montreal, you name it. Jacob Robertson and the Wizard Calder are all very busy guys,” Shitty said. 

Bitty thought on that as he rummaged through the closet. There were a couple of winter blankets piled on the top shelf, and a single pillow on top of those. If he stood on his toes, he could just barely reach high enough to yank the bottom blanket down and bring the rest with it. Face buried in wool, he made his way back toward the couch. “Jack seems to be stretched awfully thin if he’s managing all that and still finding time to run out to the country,” he noted.

“Oh,” a voice said. “If he’s out, I can come back later.”

Bitty rammed his knee into the arm of the couch and dropped everything in his arms in shock. 

Standing at the top of the landing was a boy- no, on second look Bitty saw that she was a young woman with short black hair. She wore men’s trousers and an artfully dyed blouse, and her eyes were locked on the fireplace rather than looking at Bitty.

“H-Hello,” Bitty stammered. “I’m afraid the shop is closed for the moment. You were looking for Jack? I’m Bitty, the new housekeeper.” He walked forward to greet her, hand outstretched to shake.

The woman finally turned to him with a disinterested air. She ignored his hand. “I was,” she said. “The boys told me I could come in if no one answered. Who are you?”

Bitty looked to Shitty for a cue, but the fire demon wasn’t making his presence known. He was hunkered down so low in his woodpile that Bitty couldn’t make out his face at all. He was just a regular flame. 

“You can call me Bitty,” he said again, slowly pulling his hand back. “Pleased to meet you, miss…?”

“Larissa. When will Jack be back?”

Bitty bristled at her brusqueness. That was hardly the way civilized folk talked to new acquaintances. “I’m not sure,” he said in a clipped tone. “He didn’t say what his business was, and he does tend to disappear for days at a time.”

“Do the apprentices know?” Larissa pressed, eyeing the chair by the fire. “I can wait for them to come back.”

Shitty flickered red in warning, and Bitty quickly redirected. “Actually, I was just about to lock up for the evening. I’m sure I’d love to entertain a guest, but I don’t have nearly the proper means.” He politely stepped to the side and down the stairs, opening the door for Larissa and praying the knob had stayed where it was supposed to. 

Larissa stared past him into the black void on the other side of the door, looking completely unsurprised but also mildly irritated. 

“I’ll be sure to tell Jack you came by,” Bitty added with a toothy smile. 

Slowly, Larissa nodded. “Be sure you do.” She gracefully descended the stairs and walked straight into the black, disappearing. Bitty slammed the door and quickly turned the dial, sighing with relief when wan sunlight filtered through the windows above his head.

“Shitty,” he called. “Who on earth was that?”

“Man, I wish I could tell you.” Shitty peeked over the edges of his sticks. “I know the name, at least. She knows Jack somehow from his private trips, and the Frogs met her once. I didn’t know she could just walk in whenever she wanted, though.”

“I walked in,” Bitty pointed out.

“Fuck you, you know what I mean,” Shitty said. “ Normal people can’t just walk in without my permission. And nobody but Jack ever uses that door.”

Bitty paused at the top of the stairs, looking back at the door. “Where does it go?” He wondered aloud, and then blinked. “And what do you mean, normal? I’m as normal as they come.”

“Says the guy with a malevolent curse on him,” Shitty shot back. “And that’s Montreal, where Jack’s from. But in any case, I’m going to have to keep an eye on her. She gives off some creepy vibes, you know?”

“Well, she’s certainly not very polite. I wouldn’t mind a good stretch of time without seeing her again.” 

“Can do.”

With that settled, Bitty gathered up his blankets and started making up the couch into a slapdash bed. He first laid one blanket on the couch itself, so he wouldn’t have to actually touch the fabric again when he slept. The remaining blanket over the back of the couch and Shitty would be more than enough to keep him warm at night. The pillow, however, had seen better days.

“Now you see here, pillow. I’m gonna need those lumps gone before tonight, ya hear?” Bitty plumped the pillow a few times, pleasantly surprised at how it smoothed out. “That’s more like it!” Maybe it wasn’t as old and worn out as he’d thought. He laid it at one end of the couch, and then Bitty had a decent place to spend the night.

Shitty munched on a twig, looking on in silence.

Bitty sat down on the couch and sighed, feeling drained all of a sudden. “If I take a power nap, will you make sure that someone wakes me up once everyone’s back?”

“I expect extra eggshells for this menial service- but sure, Bits. Take a load off for a while.” Shitty went so far as to hunker down in his wood pile, considerately dimming the light in the living room. 

Bitty pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and spread it over himself, laying across the cushions and closing his eyes. The boys would definitely be back soon, so he should take advantage of this opportunity to rest.

It was a fitful rest, even with the comfy pillow. Bitty tossed and turned, only catching a handful of winks before he heard the dial turn sharply. Groaning, Bitty sat up and decided that the nap would just have to stay a failure. His mood didn’t get any better when he saw that it wasn’t Nursey or Chowder and Dex at the door, but Jack. 

“Welcome back, Jacky-boy!” Shitty said. “How’s business in the country?”

“Not now Shitty,” Jack snapped. He all but glared at Bitty as he passed, not slowing on his way to the stairs. “I’m going to my room. Don’t call me for dinner.”

“Aye, captain.”

“The boys will be back soon with the food,” Bitty chimed in. Despite himself he was concerned with Jack’s behavior. “I was just about to start preparing. Do you want us to save you a plate?”

Jack startled and whirled to face the couch. “No,” he all but shouted. “Don’t do that.”

Bitty bit his tongue. The rudeness just never stopped with this man. “Alright, I won’t. Oh, but you should know that-“

“I don’t care if there’s pie, Bittle. Just make sure the Frogs eat quickly. They have to practice their spell work tonight and I know they’ll put it off if I’m not down here.” Jack gave him a pointed look and swept upstairs without another word. 

Bitty neatly but roughly made up his couch, muttering under his breath. Stupid Jack. Stupid Jack and his stupid rules and hatred of pie and his stupid pretty face. Bitty put up with more than anyone would ever know. 

He moved quickly through the kitchen now that he knew where everything was. He pulled down a big bag of rice from the pantry as well as some herbs and set out the pot he would need to cook it in, as well as a pan to cook the meat Nursey would bring. 

“He’s like this a lot,” Shitty informed him as he relocated to the kitchen. “It’s almost never personal! Jack’s a little stony but he’s not completely heartless.”

“Then why does he keep acting so damn rude?” Bitty demanded. 

“Well you know what they say, Bits. One man’s rude is another man’s compliment.”

Bitty stirred the herbs and laughed. “I don’t think anyone says that, Shitty. And that was in no way how normal folk talk, let alone compliment a body.” He could see how Jack and Larissa would get along, he thought with a roll of his eyes. They deserved each other.

“He put you in charge of the Frogs,” Shitty pointed out. “Coming from Jack, that’s the equivalent of a noble fucking bow and asking to take your hat.”

“Oh, hush.”

Unsurprisingly, Dex and Chowder returned first. Bitty could have cried at the array of utensils and fruits they brought him, oohing and ahhing over them like fireworks. They even remembered the soap, goodness.

“This one merchant also told me you’d want this,” said Dex. “Well, he told Chowder. I wasn’t going to let him buy it, but-“

“But he really seemed to know a lot about baking!” Chowder’s eyes went round with earnest awe. “We didn’t even have to tell him what we were shopping for! He just said, ‘Oh? Whatever you’re going to bake, you’ll need one of these,’ and it really wasn’t a lot of money-“

Dex cut him off and held a cloth wrapped bundle out at arm’s length. “Anyway, here.” 

Bitty took the bundle and gasped when it unfolded in his hands. “A rolling pin! My word- is this cherry?” It was- the coloring of the wood was very distinct, and it looked old to boot which meant it was well used and well loved. He’d never even held one of these when he worked in the bakery! They owned exactly one, and Mama never let anyone else use it. “ How much did this cost?” he exclaimed. 

Dex told him. It was… an absurdly low amount. 

“Chowder?” 

“Yeah Bitty?”

“You have earned pie privileges for life.”

“Swawesome!”

“What about me?” Dex asked, sounding a little frantic. “I helped! Don’t I get pie?”

Bitty laughed breathlessly, still running his hands over the smooth finish on his new rolling pin’s handles. “When you do, it’ll be because of Chowder. You weren’t even going to let him buy it, remember? Now if you’ll excuse me…”

He couldn’t do anything much for the pie until Nursey got back with his butter, so Bitty set the Frogs to setting the table and putting the produce and utensils away in the proper places. His heart swelled to see a real, well-stocked pantry again. And since Jack was being an ass, that meant he could give the boys something a little more fun than healthy.

“How would you boys like a pecan pie?”