Demons, Witches, and Toads (BoyxBoy) - Chapter 72: Chapter 72

The weeks leading up to the Festival of the Raven seemed to pass almost unbearably slow. Wheeler and Priscilla continued with the castle repairs, doing as much as they could before they were to return to the academy at the end of the month. With the exception of Wheeler's nineteenth birthday, the days had been fairly uneventful. Despite this, the sound of the Count scuttling through the walls unnerved Wheeler even more than before.
At last, the day of the festival arrived, and as they entered back into Gortsville, they found the dismal village in a drastically different state. The streets were packed to the brim, filled with people laughing and dancing. Despite the festive atmosphere, the villagers were dressed completely in black, with many wearing raven masks complete with beaks and glistening inky feathers.
And speaking of ravens...
Looking upwards, it was clear where the festival had gotten its name.
Circling in the air above the villagers were at least a thousand ravens. There were so many of them they looked like a massive black cloud.
"Well," Mulock muttered as they elbowed their way through the crowded streets, "I think I speak for all of us when I say that's utterly horrifying."
"I disagree," Wheeler began. "I think they're kinda--"
"If the word cute so much as leaves your mouth, I will end you," Mulock said sharply.
"So," Priscilla asked, glancing around. "What exactly do we do while we wait for this Arlo guy?"
"Walk around and keep our eyes peeled," Mulock said with a shrug.
"We could get snacks," Wheeler said excitedly. "Look at the desserts over there!" He pointed to a cart where a masked vendor was handing out some sort of icy confection on a stick.
"Ooooh, yes!" Priscilla cheered. "I haven't had a good dessert in ages."
The Vivok twins hadn't been lying when they'd told them the desserts at the castle could make one violently ill. Poor Priscilla and Wheeler had learned that the hard way.
Mulock sighed heavily, trailing behind them as they bounded towards the vendor.
"Wheeler, you should only have one," Mulock called after them.
"Wha... why?"
"Because you get stomach aches if you eat sweets too late into the evening," the demon replied, crossing his arms.
"Awww," Priscilla giggled. "Aren't you the little nanny?"
"Priscilla, I've almost murdered you once, and trust me, I'll do it again if you don't shut the hell up."
"Oh no," Priscilla cooed. "Someone's grumpy."
"Miss Packwood, you're a brat and I hate you."
"Well, Mister Mulock... wait... shit. I don't know your last name." Her shoulders sagged. "Man, I guess I just killed my own comeback."
Wheeler returned to his spot beside them, now carrying three of the frozen treats in his hands. "I got one for each of us," he said cheerfully, handing one to Priscilla and the other to Mulock.
"Wheeler, you're absolutely wonderful," Priscilla said with a dreamy sigh as her eyes fell to the desssert. "I've missed sweets so much!"
She opened her mouth, eyes shutting blissfully for her first bite. And that's when someone suddenly knocked into her, causing the poor dessert to plummet to the ground.
"NOOOOOOOOO!" Priscilla screeched, staring down at the pile of icy mush as if there'd just been a murder.
Without missing a beat, Mulock shoved his own dessert into her hands. "Take this," he mumbled. "I don't even like sweets."
Priscilla squealed, flinging an arm around his shoulder. "Oh, Mulock, I knew you were secretly a huge softie!"
"Shut up. No, I'm not--" He paused, eyes suddenly narrowing. "Wheeler, what the hell are you doing?"
Wheeler looked up, having just stuffed the entirety of the icy confection into his mouth.
"Imph ephing," he replied, the words muffled and indiscernible thanks to the dessert.
"Well you need to slow down," Mulock said sharply. "If you eat it too fast you're going to get a--"
"Oh, ow," Wheeler gasped, a sharp pain shooting through his temple.
"Brain-freeze," Mulock muttered, facepalming. "Exactly."
"Wow," Priscilla breathed. "Wheeler sure picked a hell of a way to prove he doesn't have common sense or a gag-reflex. That's a dangerous combo."
As the pain in Wheeler's head finally cleared, his gaze fell to an excited commotion a little ways ahead of them. A group of musicians had appeared with a growing crowd forming around them, all waiting in eager anticipation. Finally the musicians lifted their instruments, playing a jaunty tune as the villagers began to dance, grabbing partners as they twirled and spun about the lively street.
"Wow," Mulock said dryly, "do those people look like idiots or what--" He was cut off as Wheeler suddenly grabbed him by the arm, pulling him into the circle of dancers. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
"C'mon!" Wheeler said with a grin. "It'll be fun."
"No it won't," Mulock countered sharply.
They'd already slipped in with the other dancers by now, their hands absently finding each other, fingers lacing together as Mulock grabbed hold of Wheeler's waist.
"Please know," Mulock said, "that I'm only doing this to prove that this is decidedly not going to be fun." And with those words, he pulled him into a dance.
Paper lanterns had been hung above the streets, and in the fading evening light they cast the world in a golden glow. The dance was quick-paced and frantic, and Mulock was merciless as he led Wheeler, keeping them moving and spinning so fast Wheeler soon found himself flushed and out of breath. Despite this, he matched each step, never once faltering or falling behind.
"You don't give up easily, do you?" Mulock murmured, giving Wheeler another twirl.
Wheeler flashed him a crooked smile. "You know the answer to that by now."
As they continued, their bodies fell into a familiar rhythm despite the new nature of the fast paced dance. The world around Wheeler seemed to blur and he could hardly hear the music over the frantic pounding of his own heart.
Mulock's expression had softened, his face flushed as well now. His hair had become ruffled, the light from the lanterns catching in it, reflected back in those deep purple eyes like starlight.
A cage of butterflies erupted in Wheeler's chest, his entire body feeling warm and fluttery and light. Beneath it all however, was the familiar ache for something he knew he could never have.
At last the dance drew to a close, leaving them both grinning and breathless.
Wheeler gestured to the demon's expression. "See," he said with a laugh. "You did have fun."
The demon simply rolled his eyes, though he made no effort to protest.
They went to rejoin Priscilla who smirked as they approached. "Wow," she giggled, giving Mulock a little nudge. "Looks like someone tore it up on the dance floor!"
"And it looks like someone else should kindly shut the hell up."
Priscilla ignored him, pointing to a group of booths ahead. "There's a bunch of games over there. I checked them out while I was waiting for you guys and they seem pretty awesome." She grinned. "There's even one where you try to toss a ring onto a sleeping pig's tail!"
"Great, I don't care," Mulock said flatly.
"Really?" Priscilla crossed her arms. "Because I bet I could get the ring on the pig's tail way faster than you."
"You could not," the demon scoffed.
"Could too."
"Priscilla, I could march over to that pig with my eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back and still toss more rings onto its tail than you ever could."
"Oh yeah? Let's see it then!"
"Fine," Mulock snapped.
They began to make their way towards the booths, continuing to bicker and elbow each other.
Wheeler laughed and moved to follow, when he suddenly felt a light tap on his shoulder.
He turned to find a masked figure standing behind him. Despite the obstruction of the top half of his face, Wheeler knew in an instant it was Arlo.
Wheeler opened his mouth to greet him, but Arlo raised a finger to his lips.
"Don't speak," he said, his voice a low whisper. "Just follow me."
Wheeler anxiously glanced back to his friends who were still heading towards the booth.
Arlo shook his head, a knowing smile on his face. "You can't tell them where you're going. If you truly want to devote yourself to the Golden One like you said, then you must come alone." Arlo extended a hand, willing Wheeler to take it.
The boy swallowed hard. Going alone was terribly dangerous and he knew it. But what else could he do? This was their only chance.
And besides, the frightening look in Arlo's eyes made him doubt he actually had a choice.
Wheeler let out a low breath before nervously reaching forward, taking Arlo's hand.
The moment he did, the man grinned, something unreadable coming over his gaze. "You have a beautiful destiny awaiting you, Wheeler Trevil," he murmured. "Soon you'll belong to him, body and soul."
And with those words, he turned, dragging Wheeler after him as they disappeared into the crowd.