Chapter 25 #2
“Two,” Martha said, voice like steel. Electricity crackled through the room.
“Maybe we should do something,” Sal whispered.
“I’m trying,” Arthur replied.
Before, when he’d managed to pull his arm free, he felt nothing but panic. Everything had gone all…blurry. Or maybe he was the one who’d gone blurry. His arm had, at least. He closed his eyes and reached for that strange feeling of being nowhere and everywhere at once. Present and yet scattered.
Panic threatened to consume his thoughts, so he let it. All the fear and embarrassment and struggle of the last few days washed over him, and he wanted to be anywhere else. He wanted to scatter to the wind like the fog Wilhelmina had summoned.
His body vibrated apart. He was himself, but not—and he could move. He zipped out of the scarf like it was nothing, threading his consciousness around the fabric until he was free.
“Three—” Martha’s voice choked off as Arthur sped toward her and surrounded her on all sides.
Arthur was mist! He’d turned to mist! He’d heard some vampires could do it—it was in many of the old tales of Dracula and other famous vampires.
Traditionally it was used for slipping into homes unnoticed after getting an invitation, or evading capture.
He’d heard tell of vampires stuck in this form as nothing but mist and moonlight if they forgot to change back by dawn, but that was a problem for later.
For now, Arthur’s strange and scattered form was all that kept Martha from casting a spell.
Martha shrieked in frustration. “Why isn’t this working?” She spat out a few magical words, and Arthur felt a slight sensation, almost like a tickle.
“Magic doesn’t work on vampires,” Arthur explained. He wasn’t sure anyone could hear him, actually. And if they could, it would be an alarming disembodied voice.
“Indeed!” Sal exclaimed. Apparently, they could hear Arthur just fine.
Across the room, Sal struggled out of the scarf at last, standing up.
The magic holding it to him must have dissipated now that Arthur had her isolated.
Sal brushed himself off, though he looked barely rumpled, and turned to face Martha. “And that’s what you missed on Glee!”
Arthur had seen every episode of Glee (all against his will), and he was quite sure there weren’t any episodes about vampiric immunity to witchcraft, but he wasn’t about to argue. Sal deserved to gloat a little, too, in his own way.
Wilhelmina got free of the vines, gasping for breath, and rushed to Brody to check him for wounds.
“Mom, I’m fine!” he said, brushing her off. “We need to get you to the hospital, though. Your head…”
With the others distracted, Martha tried to make a run for it, but Sal intercepted her, letting out a low whistle.
“Arthur! Are you invisible?” He prodded the air around Martha, his hand passing through Arthur with no resistance so he poked Martha directly on the nose. “Well, that isn’t fair! Now I’ll never win at hide and seek!”
“Do you still have your handcuffs?” Arthur asked. He didn’t know how long they could keep Martha from running. He was quite sure he could keep up with her in his mist form to prevent her from casting, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t get away.
“Darling! Is now really the time?” Sal wrinkled his nose. “What am I saying? Who am I? Have I been abducted by aliens and replaced with a duplicate? Arthur!” He let out a genuine whine of distress.
“Just…tie her up, okay?” Arthur said.
“If you insist.” Sal’s tone took a salacious turn. “Though I think we can do better as far as thirds go. Perhaps we could ask Theo—”
“To stop her from casting, Sal. Not for…other reasons.”
Sal did as he was told, but continued to muse about Arthur’s new state of being. “Darling, you’re truly fantastic. This is giving me all sorts of ideas.”
“Perhaps you can save that for later…now isn’t really the time for boudoir talk,” Arthur said.
“I meant for my drag performance! You could be the smoke effects, then turn into a scantily clad—wait! Do you think you’ll have your clothes on when you recorporealize?”
“I’m not certain that’s a word.” Arthur cleared his throat, which was impressive considering he didn’t currently have one. This power would be interesting to explore. “I’ll be sure to turn back to my usual form in private, just in case.”
“And deny everyone the show?” Sal tutted.
“Whoa, Mr. Miller, this is so cool.” Brody, still holding Al Capone, stepped closer to them.
“Be careful,” Wilhelmina said. “Martha is dangerous.”
“Stop talking about me like I’m not here!” Martha shrieked. She tried to jerk out of Sal’s grasp, but without her magical augmentation, she was no match for a vampire at night.
“Can someone call an authority?” Arthur suggested. “I don’t want to be her straitjacket forever.”
“Not to worry, my mist-ical love.” Sal snapped the handcuffs around Martha’s wrists, pinning her arms behind her back.
“That won’t be enough to stop her,” Wilhelmina warned. “As long as she can speak the words of a spell, we can’t risk her being free.”
“Rumble, my sweet baby girl, don’t fret. Daddy has it covered.”
“Don’t call yourself Daddy,” both Arthur and Wilhelmina said in unison.
Sal put his hand back in his pocket and produced the bar of cilantro soap, showing it off like he was a magician about to perform a trick. He shoved the soap unceremoniously in Martha’s mouth, then tied it there with the same scarf she’d used to restrain them, before taking a bow.
“That…should work,” Wilhelmina said. She sounded impressed—probably due to the head wound.
Sal dramatically dusted off his hands, and Arthur slowly moved away from Martha. She didn’t fight, or try more magic. Her shoulders slumped in defeat as red and blue police lights flashed on the street outside, and Arthur’s essence flooded with relief.
With a jolt, Arthur returned to his physical form. He was dressed, thankfully. Sal hit him with a bear hug that nearly toppled them both onto the carpet again. Arthur smiled and kissed Sal’s forehead.
“I mist you so much,” Sal said with a wink.
“That’s the pun you’re going to go with?” Arthur asked. “Low-hanging fruit.”
“If you say so, Mister Miller.”
Arthur groaned, and Sal stole another kiss in triumph.