Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Two weeks of Jack attempting to teach him magic and of Locke failing spectacularly at every single attempt.
Fire magic? Nearly burned down the shop. Thank god for Jack’s quick reflexes and the fire extinguisher under the counter.
Plant growth? He’d made the vines in the apartment grow so aggressively they’d started creeping down into the shop.
Elemental manipulation? He’d accidentally frozen all the pipes. They’d had no running water for six hours until Jack fixed it.
Locke proved himself to be possibly the worst warlock in existence.
But that wasn’t even the most mortifying part.
No, the most mortifying part had been last Friday morning.
Locke had woken up earlier than usual, headed toward the bathroom for his shower, and opened the door just as Jack was stepping out.
Completely naked.
No towel. No warning. Just Jack in all his glory, water still dripping from his pumpkin face and running down his chest, over the defined muscles of his abdomen, down to….
Locke’s brain had short-circuited.
He’d known Jack was tall. Knew he was built.
But seeing him like this, every inch of him on display, was something else entirely.
The carved pumpkin head looked almost absurd perched atop a body that could’ve been sculpted by someone with a very generous imagination and absolutely no sense of modesty.
And Jack was... generous. Very generous. Proportional to his height, Locke’s frazzled brain had supplied helpfully. Very proportional.
“Good morning,” Jack had said, completely unbothered, like he wasn’t standing there naked and dripping in the doorway.
Locke had made a sound. Not a word. Just a sound. Somewhere between a squeak and a dying gasp.
“I’ll just…I’m….bathroom…“ Locke had gestured vaguely, his face burning, his eyes determinedly fixed somewhere over Jack’s left shoulder.
Jack had simply walked past him, still naked, still unbothered. “It’s all yours.”
Locke had locked himself in the bathroom and stood under cold water for twenty minutes.
They hadn’t talked about it. Jack because he clearly didn’t see what the big deal was because deities apparently didn’t do modesty, and Locke because he couldn’t form coherent sentences about it without his face catching fire.
But now, every morning when Jack emerged from the bedroom fully dressed, Locke knew. Knew exactly what was under those robes. Knew exactly what he was waking up pressed against every morning when Jack inevitably migrated across the bed during the night.
It was fine. Totally fine. Locke was handling it great.
He was handling it terribly.
Living with Jack had become an exercise in constant low-level awareness.
The way Jack moved through the apartment like he owned it—which, given the transformation, he kind of did.
The way he cooked breakfast every morning with the focus of someone creating art.
The way his carved expression would soften when he looked at Locke, then quickly shift back to neutral like he’d been caught at something.
The way Locke had started looking forward to those soft expressions.
He was so screwed.
Now, standing in the old Briar House on the edge of town, hanging fake cobwebs while Jack lounged against the wall watching him, Locke was trying very hard not to think about any of that.
Rowan had volunteered them for haunted house duty. Well, volunteered Locke. Jack had been automatically included as Locke’s “roommate” and “helper.” The town had fully bought their cover story, which would’ve been great except it meant everyone kept assigning them joint tasks like they were a unit.
Which they kind of were, Locke supposed. Just not the way people thought.
The Briar House was perfect for a haunted house; genuinely creepy even in daylight, with its peeling wallpaper and creaking floors. Someone had donated a bunch of Halloween animatronics and decorations. Locke was setting them up while Jack... observed.
“I got it!” Jack said suddenly.
Locke nearly dropped Jason Voorhees. “Please don’t conjure your throne here.”
“I told you I wasn’t. Although this place could use a bit of elegance.”
“Jack, not now. I’m trying to make this place look actually scary.”
“You have no idea what I was about to say.”
Locke turned to look at him. Jack’s carved expression was doing that thing it did when he was pleased with himself. Never a good sign.
“I’ve learned by now that whenever you have an idea it ends with disaster.”
“Technically the only one between us who has been a walking disaster is you, but you don’t see me bringing it up.”
“You just did.”
“To defend myself. But never mind all of that. I know why those attempts failed.”
Here we go again. Locke went back to the cobwebs. “Because I’m bad at magic?”
“Because you were trying the wrong type of magic. Your power is summoning.”
Locke paused. Looked over his shoulder. “Summoning.”
“Yes.”
“Like... what you do?”
“Precisely. It’s why you were able to summon me so easily.”
“It was my Grandma’s grimoire that I took the words from and used in the play.”
“And it worked. Because summoning is your natural affinity.”
Locke finally finished setting up Jason inside of the closet and turned fully to face him.
“Jack, I’ve screwed up every single magical thing you’ve tried to teach me for two weeks.
I just want to finish this haunted house and go home and watch a movie or something. I don’t want to mess anything else up.”
“You won’t mess this up. I’m certain now.”
“You were certain about the fire thing and I almost burned the shop down.”
“This is different. Trust me.”
Locke sighed. That was the problem, wasn’t it? He did trust Jack. Despite everything, despite the chaos, despite the fact that Jack was a literal harvest deity who’d turned his apartment into an autumn forest and his life into something unrecognizable.
He trusted him.
“Fine. What do you want me to summon? With my luck I might end up summoning a freaking demon.”
“A familiar. A spiritual companion, like my three. Well, not like them, you haven’t nearly the power for it. But something similar.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I meant it as reassurance. You’ll summon something appropriate to your current skill level. Likely a minor spirit. Possibly a ghost.”
“A ghost.” Of course. Why not? His life was already weird enough.
“Nothing to worry about. Just trust me and follow my instructions.”
Famous last words.
Ten minutes later, Locke was standing in the middle of the Briar House’s dusty living room, eyes closed, trying to “feel the veil between worlds” or whatever mystical nonsense Jack was coaching him through.
“Focus on your intention. Reach out with your mind.”
“I am focusing.”
“You’re thinking about me naked.”
Locke’s eyes flew open, his face immediately burning. “No I wasn’t!”
Jack’s carved mouth curved into something that looked suspiciously smug. “Locke. Clear your mind. Feel the veil between worlds. It’s especially thin here so it should be easy to tap into it and draw from it. The Loam is a world of magic and it can be yours if you’re greedy enough to take it.”
“You sound like a devil in my ear.”
“I know, but it’s what you need. You’re a kind man, Locke so I know the concept is foreign to you. But try again with that thought in mind. Think of what you want and make it yours.”
Locke closed his eyes again. Tried to focus. Tried to reach out with his mind, whatever that meant. All he could feel was frustration and the growing certainty that this was going to be another failure.
He tried again. And again. And again.
“This isn’t working. Maybe summoning isn’t my thing either.”
“Once more.”
“Jack—“
“Once more. I promise, this is your gift.”
Locke rubbed his face. “Fine. One more time. But then I’m gotta set up Freddy.”
He closed his eyes. Tried to clear his mind. Tried to feel... anything.
Then Jack’s voice was right by his ear, low and teasing and oh so seductive. “Maybe I’ll let you touch it if you…”
Magic erupted from Locke like a dam breaking.
He felt it rush out of him, wild and powerful and completely beyond his control. The air in the room shifted, charged with energy that made his hair stand on end. Light flared behind his closed eyelids.
“Whoa! Rad!”
Locke’s eyes snapped open.
There was a kid standing in the middle of the room.
A translucent kid. A ghost kid. Maybe ten years old with short black hair, wearing jeans and a sweater that looked straight out of the 90s. He was grinning, looking around the room with mischievous glee.
“Oh my god. It worked. It actually worked!” Locke cheered like he was in middle school again and scored the winning goal in kick ball.
“This place is sick! Look at all this stuff!”
“Well done, Locke,” Jack said, and he actually sounded impressed. “You’ve summoned a spirit and didn’t blow up the house while doing it.”
The ghost kid turned to them, stuck his tongue out, and said, “Who are you losers?”
Locke blinked. “Uh. Hi. I’m Locke. I... summoned you?”
“Cool! This place is like, way better than where I was. So boring there. This place has all these freaky dudes!” The kid was already floating over to the Halloween decorations, poking at them with translucent fingers. “Hey I remember this guy!” The ghost kid touched the Freddy Krueger animatronic.
“Perhaps you should establish control before—“ Jack started.
The Freddy animatronic jerked to life.
“What did he just do?”
“He’s animating the decorations.”
“Dude! Check it out! Let’s make them chase people down and have them wetting their pants!”
More animatronics sprang to life around them. Jason. A vampire. A werewolf. All the carefully positioned Halloween decorations suddenly moved about jerky and uncanny.
“Can you make him stop?”
“He’s your summon. You need to command him.”
“Uh…hey! Kid! Stop that!”
The ghost kid was laughing and spinning in circles while making more decorations come to life. “This is awesome!”
“Pip, Russet, Bramble contain them,” Jack commanded, and his three familiars shimmered into visibility.
“On it, boss!” Pip zipped toward the animated Jason figure.
“Why do we always get the weird jobs?” Bramble grumbled.
“This is a hassle,” Russet added, but they were already working to contain the chaos.
“Hey! Ghost kid! You need to stop!”
“Psyche!” The kid zoomed toward the door, phasing right through it.
“He’s leaving!”
“Go after him. I’ll handle this.”
Locke burst out of the Briar House to find the ghost kid floating down the street, laughing maniacally. There were kids playing nearby and the ghost was heading right for them.
“Wait! Come back!”
The ghost knocked the ball out of one kid’s hands, sending it rolling into the street.
“My ball!”
The kid who’d been holding it started running after it. Into the street just as a car was coming around the corner.
“No! Kid, stop!”
The kid didn’t stop. Locke’s heart seized. He couldn’t reach the kid in time. The car was coming too fast.
“Ghosty!”
The name came out without thinking. The ghost turned, looked at him.
“Save him! Now!”
The ghost zoomed across the space faster than Locke could blink, slamming into the kid and pushing him back onto the sidewalk just as the car drove through the ghost’s translucent form.
The car passed. The kid was safe, sitting on the sidewalk looking startled. And the ghost was standing in the middle of the street, alone.
Then he started sniffling.
“I... I don’t wanna be here anymore...”
Oh no. Locke rushed over, his legs wobbly from the near-miss. “Oh no. Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”
“Did... did I die like that? Getting hit by a car?”
Locke knelt in the street, wanting to cradle that translucent child in his arms and tell him it’ll be okay. He couldn’t imagine the nightmare it would be to remember how you died and have to relive it in some way. “I’m so sorry.”
“Are you gonna make me go away now?”
“What? No. No, I—“
“You’re gonna send me back, aren’t you? My parents used to send me away.”
“I won’t send you away. I promise. You can be my familiar, okay? Would you like that?”
The ghost sniffled. “Really?”
“Really. I promise.”
The ghost’s face transformed. The tears vanished. A huge grin spread across his face and he started laughing.
“Psyche! Oh man, you totally fell for it!”
Locke stared. “What?”
“Dude, you were all ‘I pwomise, you can stay!’” The ghost’s voice went high and mocking. “So gullible!”
“You were faking that!?”
“Duh! And now those kids are watching you talk to yourself. You look crazy!”
Locke looked over. The kids were indeed staring at him, huddled together and whispering. He was kneeling in the middle of the street talking to empty air.
He sighed. Deeply.
“Go away.”
The ghost dissipated mid-laugh. “Later, loser!”
Then he was gone.
Jack had emerged from the Briar House and was walking over, his familiars bobbing around him. The animatronics crisis was apparently handled.
“That was... eventful.”
“I can’t believe I fell for that.”
“You never know what personality your familiar will have. Sometimes I wish I could tailor my own familiars’ personalities.”
“Hey!” Pip protested.
“Rude,” Bramble added.
“Most ungrateful, my lord,” Russet said primly.
“I jest. Mostly.”
Locke stood up, brushing off his jeans. The kids were still staring. Great. “So that’s it? He’s just... gone?”
“You can call him back whenever you need him. You gave him a name.”
“I called him Ghosty. That doesn’t count.”
“It does. Names have power. You named him, you bound him. He’ll answer if you call.”
“I don’t think I want to call that little menace back.”
“He saved that child.”
“After causing the problem in the first place.”
“True summoning is rarely predictable. But you did well. You successfully summoned and controlled a spirit. That’s impressive for your first real attempt.”
Locke looked at him. Jack’s carved expression was unreadable to Locke, if he had to pick out any expression on that jack-o-lantern face it would be perhaps pride? But to Jack, his intentions were clear. ‘This young warlock is mine.’ He thought.
They were standing close. When had they gotten so close?
“Ooooooh!”
Locke’s head whipped around. The kids were watching them, grinning. One was making exaggerated kissy noises. They all burst into giggles.
Locke stepped back quickly, his face heating. “We should... uh... we should probably finish decorating the haunted house.”
“Of course.”
“Yeah. So. Let’s... let’s go do that.”