Werewolves and Witches, PG-13, original, fragment
Thursday, November 18th, 2010 08:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tsaiko1150 words on Werewolves and Witches. Enough to finish this scene and start the next. Mostly I am amused by the fact that the two main characters cannot stop sniping at each other throughout this entire scene.
They hit the ground hard, and Randy would have felt it more if Quinton hadn't cushioned his fall. Randy winced. That couldn't have been comfortable. He was on the football team and Quinton was the tall, skinny nerd. There was no cushioning on him.
"Get off me," Quinton said his voice breathless from getting the air knocked out of him. It still sounded way louder than what Randy was comfortable with.
"Would you be quiet?" Randy hissed. The ghouls were still in the woods, and while werewolf wasn't their favorite meal, they wouldn't say no to it. Quinton… well Quinton was human, and a norm as far as Randy could tell. The guy might be obnoxious at times, but that didn't mean Randy wanted to see him torn limb from limb and be eaten. "Stay still."
"I am not staying still." Quinton began to struggle and Randy tried to keep him still. He had weight and strength on his side, but Quinton had speed and a knee that kept almost hitting him in sensitive areas. "And you are heavy. Get. Off."
Randy's hands were around Quinton's wrists, keeping him pinned. The world smelled of earth and forest leaves. Quinton, on the other hand, smelled like sweat and aftershave and a hint of Irish spring soap. It was a manly smell. More importantly, he would not shut up, was in fact calling Randy quite a few interesting names while getting progressively louder. So Randy did the first thing that came to mind to make Quinton quiet.
He kissed him.
Quinton went very still, which was good. He was also quiet. Double good. Randy was just about to end the kiss when Quinton suddenly was kissing back. His tongue was in Randy's mouth, hot and slick and agile. He rolled his hips up and Randy couldn't help but rolling his hips down.
Oh wow. That was hot.
Werewolf instincts took over. Randy made a deep sound in the back of his throat that sounded like a growl. He pushed one knee between Quinton's legs, pleased when Quinton opened his legs for him. That gave his enough leverage to rub up against Quinton's leg. Quinton was making little breathless sounds, tongue still tangling with his own.
The sounds of a ghoul calling off in the distance – a loud, barking cough that could not be mistaken for anything else – was what finally brought him to his sense. What the hell was wrong with him? Had he really almost fucked Quinton in the middle of the forest with ghouls roaming around? Randy had come across the stereotype that werewolves were slaves to their hormones, but this was the first time he'd experienced it.
He jerked back from the kiss, trying to see Quinton's reaction. It was dark under the trees and the moon was still too thin to give much light, but the wolf part was very much near the surface. It helped Randy to see in the dark.
At first, Quinton just looked shocked. His heart was racing and his breath was coming in ragged gasps. Then it seemed to dawn on him what had happened. Randy watched as Quinton's face seemed to shut down. Next thing he knew, Quinton had managed to somehow twist beneath him and get an elbow in his stomach.
"Get. Off. Me." Each word was bitten off. Randy scrambled up, embarrassed and kind of horrified at himself that this had happened. If Quinton had been a werewolf, he'd had been fully within his rights to demote him in the pack order. And if Randy had been in wolf form, he'd show his belly in heartbeat for what he'd done.
But Quinton wasn't a werewolf and Randy wasn't in wolf form. All he could do was tell Quinton how sorry he was. Which required him to get off him. Randy scrambled to his feet. Quinton got up more slowly, bits of leaves and forest floor sticking to him. At some point, Quinton's glasses had gotten knocked askew and he resettled them on his nose.
"Quinton… ," Randy said. He barely got the word out before Quinton cut him off.
"Just… stop. Whatever you're about to say, I don't want to hear it," Quinton snapped. Randy's mouth shut with an audible click and he felt a surge of anger. He was trying to save Quinton's life and this was how he talked to him?
"Well, too bad. I'm going to say I'm sorry no matter what you want," Randy bit out. Quinton snorted.
"Sure. Right. You're not sorry at all," Quinton said bitterly. "Now you get to tell all your jock friends how Quinton is not only a pathetic geek, but he's also gay as well."
Wait. Quinton was gay? Randy guessed he should have figured out as much given that Quinton hadn't exactly resorted to physical violence when Randy had kissed him. He also hadn't said "No" either except right at the end. Then again, it was hard to say know when there was a tongue in your mouth.
Quinton must have taken Randy's silence as some kind of encouragement to keep spouting idiocy, because he continued. "Only I'm sure when you retell this in the locker room, I'll be the one who desperately threw himself at you."
"Okay, first, I didn't desperately throw myself at you. I was trying to shut you up. Two, I'm not going to be talking about this to the rest of the team," Randy replied. Not that the rest of the team would care much, other than to wonder if Randy had been hit in the head too many time during practice if he thought Quinton McKelvey was hot. Most of the football team were werewolves, and werewolves tended to be a lot more open about sexuality than norms. They had to be.
"Right. Guess you don't want all of your testosterone laden buddies to be calling you fag either," Quinton sneered.
"Do you even listen to yourself? I swear McKelvey, you…" Movement caused Randy to look up, the words dying in his throat. He had forgotten where they were and just why he had kissed Quinton in the first place. There was a ghoul less than ten feet behind Quinton. It looked at him with dark, soulless eyes. Then it moved.
There was no way Randy would be able to move fast enough to stop it. That didn't stop him
Quinton must have sensed or heard it, because he turned as the ghoul moved forward. It's hands were out stretched, revealing two inch long nails. It opened its mouth to show off razor sharp teeth. Even in the dim light, they seemed to glow.
"SIT DOWN," Quinton yelled. The ghoul stopped as if it had been rooted in place. It hissed, but obediently took a seat with its knees bent and its hands resting between its feet. "And shut up too. I don't have to take your back talk."
The ghoul became disturbingly silent.
"How did you do that?" Randy asked quietly. Quinton whirled to face him, his face pale. Randy could smell the sudden surge of fear coming on Quinton. "It listened to you. How is that even possible?"
"You can't tell anyone." Quinton held out his hands in a supplicating gesture. "How's this? I won't tell anyone about how you tried to hump my leg and you won't tell anyone about the ghoul. You keep my secret, and I'll keep yours."
"I did not try to hump your leg," Randy replied indignantly. "And you suck at this whole 'Let's Make a Deal' thing. It generally works better if you don't insult the person you're trying to deal with."
"I get it. No dog jokes." Quinton was still tense. Randy could see it in the way he held himself. "Let's just forget this ever happened. Deal?"
"What are you?" Randy asked. "I don't know of anyone or anything that can make a ghoul stop attacking without ripping it apart." At his words, the ghoul snarled. But silently. Like it was still obeying Quinton's orders.
"I'm a witch. There. Happy?"
"I've met a lot of witches. Witches don't control ghouls. Try again, McKelvey," Randy replied.
"Have I told you I hate it when you refer to me by just my last name?" Quinton snapped. Randy just grinned. He knew it pissed Quinton off. That was half the reason he did it. He also gave Quinton an expectant look. "I'm a special witch. I can only access two of the six elements: dark and earth."
"What does that mean exactly?" Randy finally asked. Normally Randy played the dumb jock simply because people expected it or because it ticked them off. This time he really didn't know what the significance of Quinton's statement was. Quinton just stared at him. Then he rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in the air.
"Are you seriously going to make me spell it out for you? Being a witch with only dark and earth elementals means I'm a necromancer." All the fight seemed to drain out of Quinton. When he spoke again, his words were subdued, almost broken sounding. "I'm a necromancer."
Randy's first reaction was to laugh, though he managed to catch himself in time. It sounded like a joke. He wished it was a joke. The problem was Quinton was terrible at jokes. And everything he'd seen pointed to the fact that this was true.
"Aren't you going to say something?" Quinton asked. He still sounded broken. Randy wasn't sure how to deal with that.
"I thought necromancers were supposed to be…" Randy hesitated. Oh hell, there was no good way of saying this. "I thought there were considered evil. You know, by nature. One of those automatically cast out." Or destroyed.
"Usually they are. I'm different." Quinton looked away, and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I mean I think I'm different. I certainly don't feel evil and I haven't gone crazy or anything and raised armies of undead."
"But you could?" Randy asked. Quinton seemed to shrink in on himself slightly.
"Yes." The word was barely above a whisper. Then Quinton shook himself. "I'm going to try very hard not to. I mean, I don't think I will. I won't. I won't do that. But if people knew about me, they wouldn't wait around to find out I'm one of the few good necromancers. They'd just demand I be driven out. Or kill me."
"I can see why you hide it," Randy replied. He still wasn't quite sure he believed. His mind wouldn't quite wrap around the fact that Quinton was a necromancer. Then a thought struck him. "Does anyone else know?"
"Yeah. Just a few though. My aunt, obviously, since I stay with her. Mayor Dressler knows. Principle Chung knows as well. Oh. And Ms. Dallas." Randy blinked at that.
"Ms. Dallas? The math teacher?" Why the hell did a random math teacher know about Quinton's deep, dark secret?
"It was part of the conditions of me being allowed to stay," Quinton replied. He shifted nervously. "Ms. Dallas is a paladin. She's here in case I go crazy. Although really, I should not be telling you that since that's also supposed to be a secret." Quinton sighed. "I guess it really doesn't matter since you already know my secret."
"Ms. Dallas is a paladin. An actual paladin." Randy felt he could say it a few more times, as if saying it again and again would help make it sound less crazy. His mind tried overlaying the traditional image of the paladin – tall, tanned, blond guy with a sword – with the reality of Ms. Dallas. It didn't work. "Honestly, it's easier for me to believe that you’re a necromancer than to believe that Ms. Dallas is a paladin."
"Thanks, considering that you think all necromancers are crazy," Quinton replied. "I appreciate it. That fills me with warm, fuzzy feelings."
"I'm just saying." They stood awkwardly beneath the trees in the darkness, neither one quite knowing what to do. Finally Randy spoke. "Right. Well, I guess if you can control the ghouls you don't really need me to keep you safe."
"Is that why you're here?" Quinton asked incredulously. "You were trying to keep me safe?"
Randy shifted uncomfortably. "Look, when a guy like you goes wandering into the woods alone when ghouls have been reported roaming around… I mean if I'd known you could control them I would have just let you be. I thought you were going to be killed or something."
"You don't even like me," Quinton replied. He sounded so sure of it. Randy sighed.
"Look, just because I don't like someone doesn't mean I don't care if they get ripped to shred and eaten," Randy replied. "And it's not that I don't like you or anything. You're just… you. Which is kind of annoying."
"Talk about damning someone with faint praise," Quinton muttered. He said it under his breath, but Randy heard it anyway. Came with the whole werewolf territory. When he spoke next, Quinton used a more normal volume. "Maybe you can help me though. The reason I'm wandering around the woods at night is I'm trying to figure out what calling the ghouls here. Ghouls tend to be solitary. So why are they gathering here? I'm going to find out and could use some brawn to my brain."
"And you want me to help?" Randy looked down at the ghoul that was still sitting there. It flexed its claws and showed off sharp teeth. He wasn't sure how much of his expression Quinton could see in the dark so he decided a more direct approach was needed. "Are you out of your fucking mind? I'm not wandering around the woods in the middle of the night looking for something that's attracting ghouls."
"You're already wandering around the woods in the middle of the night," Quinton pointed out.
"No, what I'm trying to do is make sure you don't get killed long enough to drag you back somewhere where it is safe," Randy said. "Or at least that was the plan."
"Plans change. I'm going to continue to roam around the woods. If you really care about my safety like you claim, you'll follow me." Quinton smiled, a quick flash of teeth in the darkness. "Otherwise you were just lying."
"I was not lying." Randy ran a hand through his hair. "How much danger can you be in from the ghouls when you can control them?"
"A lot," Quinton said. His voice was abruptly sober. "I can command them to an extent, but I have to know they are there and actually get the words out in time. If I don't, they won't listen to me. And I'll be dead."
"Fuck." Randy growled at Quinton in a very wolf-like manner. "Have I mentioned I fucking hate you, McKelvey?"
"It hadn't escaped my attention." Quinton pushed his glasses up his nose. It was a familiar gesture, one Randy saw Quinton do multiple times a day at school. "I mean, it's not like your subtle or anything."
"You are one to talk." Randy looked down at the ghoul. "So… how much of a lead to you have on this? I got the impression you could understand what it was saying."
"Yes. Sort of." Quinton frowned and walked over to the ghoul. Then he knelt in front of it, looking it directly in the eye from mere inches away. Randy had to suppress the urge to snatch him away from it. "Go ahead and speak. What's calling you here?"
The ghoul let out a series of hisses, gnashes and what Randy could only describe as crunching noises. It was the most disturbing language he'd ever heard, and that was no mean feat considering that he'd been in the locker room at the same time as Frank, who was one of their wide receivers. Quinton huffed and stood back up.
"He doesn't know what's calling him. None of the ghouls are particularly happy with being called to Spectre. They say it has too many paranormals and not enough food." Quinton frowned down at the ghoul. "He can't really describe why he's here. He just is."
"Awesome. That's not exactly a whole lot of information to go on. Can it give us some sort of direction? A clue? Anything?" Randy asked.
"Can you tell us anything that might help us so you can return home?" Quinton asked. The ghoul cocked its head to one side, and gave Quinton a considering look. Then it spoke again. "He says that it comes from the graves in the woods. I don't think he means the main cemetery in town. Do you think there's another cemetery somewhere in here?"
"I know there is one," Randy replied. "It's called the Conner Cemetery, since that's the family name on most of the graves. It's a pretty common make out spot. A lot of guys on the team talk about it. I know exactly where it is." Quinton made a noise. Randy gave him a look. "What?"
Quinton let out a long, frustrated sigh. "Nothing. It's just… teenage sexuality and a creepy setting with lots of potential spiritual disquiet. That surely doesn't sound like the set-up of a horror movie. I can't imagine what possibly could go wrong. It is a totally mystery."
"Your sarcasm is wasted on me. I am a dumb jock and it goes right above my head," Randy said dryly. "Come on then. Let's find this ghoul attracting thing and get this over with as quickly as possible."
"Let's. Because the less time I have to spend in your cheerful company the better," Quinton replied.
They hit the ground hard, and Randy would have felt it more if Quinton hadn't cushioned his fall. Randy winced. That couldn't have been comfortable. He was on the football team and Quinton was the tall, skinny nerd. There was no cushioning on him.
"Get off me," Quinton said his voice breathless from getting the air knocked out of him. It still sounded way louder than what Randy was comfortable with.
"Would you be quiet?" Randy hissed. The ghouls were still in the woods, and while werewolf wasn't their favorite meal, they wouldn't say no to it. Quinton… well Quinton was human, and a norm as far as Randy could tell. The guy might be obnoxious at times, but that didn't mean Randy wanted to see him torn limb from limb and be eaten. "Stay still."
"I am not staying still." Quinton began to struggle and Randy tried to keep him still. He had weight and strength on his side, but Quinton had speed and a knee that kept almost hitting him in sensitive areas. "And you are heavy. Get. Off."
Randy's hands were around Quinton's wrists, keeping him pinned. The world smelled of earth and forest leaves. Quinton, on the other hand, smelled like sweat and aftershave and a hint of Irish spring soap. It was a manly smell. More importantly, he would not shut up, was in fact calling Randy quite a few interesting names while getting progressively louder. So Randy did the first thing that came to mind to make Quinton quiet.
He kissed him.
Quinton went very still, which was good. He was also quiet. Double good. Randy was just about to end the kiss when Quinton suddenly was kissing back. His tongue was in Randy's mouth, hot and slick and agile. He rolled his hips up and Randy couldn't help but rolling his hips down.
Oh wow. That was hot.
Werewolf instincts took over. Randy made a deep sound in the back of his throat that sounded like a growl. He pushed one knee between Quinton's legs, pleased when Quinton opened his legs for him. That gave his enough leverage to rub up against Quinton's leg. Quinton was making little breathless sounds, tongue still tangling with his own.
The sounds of a ghoul calling off in the distance – a loud, barking cough that could not be mistaken for anything else – was what finally brought him to his sense. What the hell was wrong with him? Had he really almost fucked Quinton in the middle of the forest with ghouls roaming around? Randy had come across the stereotype that werewolves were slaves to their hormones, but this was the first time he'd experienced it.
He jerked back from the kiss, trying to see Quinton's reaction. It was dark under the trees and the moon was still too thin to give much light, but the wolf part was very much near the surface. It helped Randy to see in the dark.
At first, Quinton just looked shocked. His heart was racing and his breath was coming in ragged gasps. Then it seemed to dawn on him what had happened. Randy watched as Quinton's face seemed to shut down. Next thing he knew, Quinton had managed to somehow twist beneath him and get an elbow in his stomach.
"Get. Off. Me." Each word was bitten off. Randy scrambled up, embarrassed and kind of horrified at himself that this had happened. If Quinton had been a werewolf, he'd had been fully within his rights to demote him in the pack order. And if Randy had been in wolf form, he'd show his belly in heartbeat for what he'd done.
But Quinton wasn't a werewolf and Randy wasn't in wolf form. All he could do was tell Quinton how sorry he was. Which required him to get off him. Randy scrambled to his feet. Quinton got up more slowly, bits of leaves and forest floor sticking to him. At some point, Quinton's glasses had gotten knocked askew and he resettled them on his nose.
"Quinton… ," Randy said. He barely got the word out before Quinton cut him off.
"Just… stop. Whatever you're about to say, I don't want to hear it," Quinton snapped. Randy's mouth shut with an audible click and he felt a surge of anger. He was trying to save Quinton's life and this was how he talked to him?
"Well, too bad. I'm going to say I'm sorry no matter what you want," Randy bit out. Quinton snorted.
"Sure. Right. You're not sorry at all," Quinton said bitterly. "Now you get to tell all your jock friends how Quinton is not only a pathetic geek, but he's also gay as well."
Wait. Quinton was gay? Randy guessed he should have figured out as much given that Quinton hadn't exactly resorted to physical violence when Randy had kissed him. He also hadn't said "No" either except right at the end. Then again, it was hard to say know when there was a tongue in your mouth.
Quinton must have taken Randy's silence as some kind of encouragement to keep spouting idiocy, because he continued. "Only I'm sure when you retell this in the locker room, I'll be the one who desperately threw himself at you."
"Okay, first, I didn't desperately throw myself at you. I was trying to shut you up. Two, I'm not going to be talking about this to the rest of the team," Randy replied. Not that the rest of the team would care much, other than to wonder if Randy had been hit in the head too many time during practice if he thought Quinton McKelvey was hot. Most of the football team were werewolves, and werewolves tended to be a lot more open about sexuality than norms. They had to be.
"Right. Guess you don't want all of your testosterone laden buddies to be calling you fag either," Quinton sneered.
"Do you even listen to yourself? I swear McKelvey, you…" Movement caused Randy to look up, the words dying in his throat. He had forgotten where they were and just why he had kissed Quinton in the first place. There was a ghoul less than ten feet behind Quinton. It looked at him with dark, soulless eyes. Then it moved.
There was no way Randy would be able to move fast enough to stop it. That didn't stop him
Quinton must have sensed or heard it, because he turned as the ghoul moved forward. It's hands were out stretched, revealing two inch long nails. It opened its mouth to show off razor sharp teeth. Even in the dim light, they seemed to glow.
"SIT DOWN," Quinton yelled. The ghoul stopped as if it had been rooted in place. It hissed, but obediently took a seat with its knees bent and its hands resting between its feet. "And shut up too. I don't have to take your back talk."
The ghoul became disturbingly silent.
"How did you do that?" Randy asked quietly. Quinton whirled to face him, his face pale. Randy could smell the sudden surge of fear coming on Quinton. "It listened to you. How is that even possible?"
"You can't tell anyone." Quinton held out his hands in a supplicating gesture. "How's this? I won't tell anyone about how you tried to hump my leg and you won't tell anyone about the ghoul. You keep my secret, and I'll keep yours."
"I did not try to hump your leg," Randy replied indignantly. "And you suck at this whole 'Let's Make a Deal' thing. It generally works better if you don't insult the person you're trying to deal with."
"I get it. No dog jokes." Quinton was still tense. Randy could see it in the way he held himself. "Let's just forget this ever happened. Deal?"
"What are you?" Randy asked. "I don't know of anyone or anything that can make a ghoul stop attacking without ripping it apart." At his words, the ghoul snarled. But silently. Like it was still obeying Quinton's orders.
"I'm a witch. There. Happy?"
"I've met a lot of witches. Witches don't control ghouls. Try again, McKelvey," Randy replied.
"Have I told you I hate it when you refer to me by just my last name?" Quinton snapped. Randy just grinned. He knew it pissed Quinton off. That was half the reason he did it. He also gave Quinton an expectant look. "I'm a special witch. I can only access two of the six elements: dark and earth."
"What does that mean exactly?" Randy finally asked. Normally Randy played the dumb jock simply because people expected it or because it ticked them off. This time he really didn't know what the significance of Quinton's statement was. Quinton just stared at him. Then he rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in the air.
"Are you seriously going to make me spell it out for you? Being a witch with only dark and earth elementals means I'm a necromancer." All the fight seemed to drain out of Quinton. When he spoke again, his words were subdued, almost broken sounding. "I'm a necromancer."
Randy's first reaction was to laugh, though he managed to catch himself in time. It sounded like a joke. He wished it was a joke. The problem was Quinton was terrible at jokes. And everything he'd seen pointed to the fact that this was true.
"Aren't you going to say something?" Quinton asked. He still sounded broken. Randy wasn't sure how to deal with that.
"I thought necromancers were supposed to be…" Randy hesitated. Oh hell, there was no good way of saying this. "I thought there were considered evil. You know, by nature. One of those automatically cast out." Or destroyed.
"Usually they are. I'm different." Quinton looked away, and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I mean I think I'm different. I certainly don't feel evil and I haven't gone crazy or anything and raised armies of undead."
"But you could?" Randy asked. Quinton seemed to shrink in on himself slightly.
"Yes." The word was barely above a whisper. Then Quinton shook himself. "I'm going to try very hard not to. I mean, I don't think I will. I won't. I won't do that. But if people knew about me, they wouldn't wait around to find out I'm one of the few good necromancers. They'd just demand I be driven out. Or kill me."
"I can see why you hide it," Randy replied. He still wasn't quite sure he believed. His mind wouldn't quite wrap around the fact that Quinton was a necromancer. Then a thought struck him. "Does anyone else know?"
"Yeah. Just a few though. My aunt, obviously, since I stay with her. Mayor Dressler knows. Principle Chung knows as well. Oh. And Ms. Dallas." Randy blinked at that.
"Ms. Dallas? The math teacher?" Why the hell did a random math teacher know about Quinton's deep, dark secret?
"It was part of the conditions of me being allowed to stay," Quinton replied. He shifted nervously. "Ms. Dallas is a paladin. She's here in case I go crazy. Although really, I should not be telling you that since that's also supposed to be a secret." Quinton sighed. "I guess it really doesn't matter since you already know my secret."
"Ms. Dallas is a paladin. An actual paladin." Randy felt he could say it a few more times, as if saying it again and again would help make it sound less crazy. His mind tried overlaying the traditional image of the paladin – tall, tanned, blond guy with a sword – with the reality of Ms. Dallas. It didn't work. "Honestly, it's easier for me to believe that you’re a necromancer than to believe that Ms. Dallas is a paladin."
"Thanks, considering that you think all necromancers are crazy," Quinton replied. "I appreciate it. That fills me with warm, fuzzy feelings."
"I'm just saying." They stood awkwardly beneath the trees in the darkness, neither one quite knowing what to do. Finally Randy spoke. "Right. Well, I guess if you can control the ghouls you don't really need me to keep you safe."
"Is that why you're here?" Quinton asked incredulously. "You were trying to keep me safe?"
Randy shifted uncomfortably. "Look, when a guy like you goes wandering into the woods alone when ghouls have been reported roaming around… I mean if I'd known you could control them I would have just let you be. I thought you were going to be killed or something."
"You don't even like me," Quinton replied. He sounded so sure of it. Randy sighed.
"Look, just because I don't like someone doesn't mean I don't care if they get ripped to shred and eaten," Randy replied. "And it's not that I don't like you or anything. You're just… you. Which is kind of annoying."
"Talk about damning someone with faint praise," Quinton muttered. He said it under his breath, but Randy heard it anyway. Came with the whole werewolf territory. When he spoke next, Quinton used a more normal volume. "Maybe you can help me though. The reason I'm wandering around the woods at night is I'm trying to figure out what calling the ghouls here. Ghouls tend to be solitary. So why are they gathering here? I'm going to find out and could use some brawn to my brain."
"And you want me to help?" Randy looked down at the ghoul that was still sitting there. It flexed its claws and showed off sharp teeth. He wasn't sure how much of his expression Quinton could see in the dark so he decided a more direct approach was needed. "Are you out of your fucking mind? I'm not wandering around the woods in the middle of the night looking for something that's attracting ghouls."
"You're already wandering around the woods in the middle of the night," Quinton pointed out.
"No, what I'm trying to do is make sure you don't get killed long enough to drag you back somewhere where it is safe," Randy said. "Or at least that was the plan."
"Plans change. I'm going to continue to roam around the woods. If you really care about my safety like you claim, you'll follow me." Quinton smiled, a quick flash of teeth in the darkness. "Otherwise you were just lying."
"I was not lying." Randy ran a hand through his hair. "How much danger can you be in from the ghouls when you can control them?"
"A lot," Quinton said. His voice was abruptly sober. "I can command them to an extent, but I have to know they are there and actually get the words out in time. If I don't, they won't listen to me. And I'll be dead."
"Fuck." Randy growled at Quinton in a very wolf-like manner. "Have I mentioned I fucking hate you, McKelvey?"
"It hadn't escaped my attention." Quinton pushed his glasses up his nose. It was a familiar gesture, one Randy saw Quinton do multiple times a day at school. "I mean, it's not like your subtle or anything."
"You are one to talk." Randy looked down at the ghoul. "So… how much of a lead to you have on this? I got the impression you could understand what it was saying."
"Yes. Sort of." Quinton frowned and walked over to the ghoul. Then he knelt in front of it, looking it directly in the eye from mere inches away. Randy had to suppress the urge to snatch him away from it. "Go ahead and speak. What's calling you here?"
The ghoul let out a series of hisses, gnashes and what Randy could only describe as crunching noises. It was the most disturbing language he'd ever heard, and that was no mean feat considering that he'd been in the locker room at the same time as Frank, who was one of their wide receivers. Quinton huffed and stood back up.
"He doesn't know what's calling him. None of the ghouls are particularly happy with being called to Spectre. They say it has too many paranormals and not enough food." Quinton frowned down at the ghoul. "He can't really describe why he's here. He just is."
"Awesome. That's not exactly a whole lot of information to go on. Can it give us some sort of direction? A clue? Anything?" Randy asked.
"Can you tell us anything that might help us so you can return home?" Quinton asked. The ghoul cocked its head to one side, and gave Quinton a considering look. Then it spoke again. "He says that it comes from the graves in the woods. I don't think he means the main cemetery in town. Do you think there's another cemetery somewhere in here?"
"I know there is one," Randy replied. "It's called the Conner Cemetery, since that's the family name on most of the graves. It's a pretty common make out spot. A lot of guys on the team talk about it. I know exactly where it is." Quinton made a noise. Randy gave him a look. "What?"
Quinton let out a long, frustrated sigh. "Nothing. It's just… teenage sexuality and a creepy setting with lots of potential spiritual disquiet. That surely doesn't sound like the set-up of a horror movie. I can't imagine what possibly could go wrong. It is a totally mystery."
"Your sarcasm is wasted on me. I am a dumb jock and it goes right above my head," Randy said dryly. "Come on then. Let's find this ghoul attracting thing and get this over with as quickly as possible."
"Let's. Because the less time I have to spend in your cheerful company the better," Quinton replied.
