Chapter Text
‘Uncle Tony?’
‘Yeah kid?’
‘Lower Tadfield’s that way. You missed the sign.’
‘Fuck… Don’t tell your parents I said that.’
‘Like they care.’
‘...Come on, find us somewhere to eat before we turn around.’
*
They are three hours later than planned in getting to Tadfield, even with Anthony driving. But the movers are worth the ridiculous sum of money Thaddeus paid them and have mostly finished the unloading - though Anthony isn’t entirely certain where they got the key from. Do country places not lock their front doors? Is he going to have to do that? Can he do that?
He pulls the Bentley into the covered spot that was perhaps ten percent of the reason he picked this place, and Warlock’s out of the car and up the stairs in a flash.
‘Uncle Tony! Which room is mine?’
‘Not the one with the bathroom!’ Anthony hops out, grabbing Warlock’s abandoned backpack from the backseat along with his own box of small plants, and nodding at the movers as they pull the last of his boxes off the truck. He is probably going to have to spend the day shuffling boxes around but at least he doesn’t have to deal with people in his space.
The head mover holds out a piece of paper confirming delivery, which Anthony grabs and walks inside with, ignoring the man’s huff.
He runs a careful eye over the furniture in the living room, pleased to see his things are intact. There is his throne which should be with the desk that is hopefully upstairs, but Anthony has moved it before and well... They got it in here in one piece, no need for them to touch it more. A quick glance around the place and he spots a few more of his pieces around; the statues he’s had for ages, the sofa that is far less comfortable than it looks, and-
‘Where are my plants?’ he says, turning on the mover.
‘Outside?’ The man sounds bewildered by the idea Anthony might be upset with the stupidity of putting indoor plants outside. God if only they’d fitted in the Bentley!
Anthony stalks out. There they are, littered along the back porch like they’re not important, already a little droopy in the sunlight they don’t need.
‘Don’t worry you layabouts,’ Anthony says, running his hands over the closest of the plants, ‘we’ll get you inside soon. Then you won’t be able to blame anyone if you don’t measure up.’
‘Sir, is there anything else?’ The head mover sounds peeved and a little part of Anthony croons with glee. He deserves to be annoyed after what he did to all these plants.
‘Yeah, make sure Warlock’s stuff is in the room he picked,’ Anthony says, looking down at the piece of paper in his hands. ‘I’ll sign this while you’re at it.’
A sniff and nod before the man storms out, yelling at his coworker to go help the kid if he needs it.
With a sigh, Anthony signs and begins the task of relocating plants.
It’s going to be a long day.
*
Crowley bolts awake, the scent of smoke in his nose and choking at his throat, while his heart pounds. An ache in his chest, like he’s lost something, something important-
‘Fucking nightmares,’ Anthony growls and sits up to check his phone.
3AM
‘Fuck you,’ he says to the phone, though it doesn’t make him feel any better. Same nightmare as always, fire and fear and the sense of lost all in a burning bookshop. Confusing and completely irrelevant to anything in his life. If only Anthony was the sort of person to talk to someone about nightmares to understand them more, but really what good would it do?
Urgh. He needs coffee.
Getting out of bed involves more rolling than he’s willing to admit, his mattress too close to the floor to be anything but awkward to get out of. Building Warlock’s bed had taken them through dinner, after they’d managed to get the throne upstairs, and neither had been up to the challenge of building Anthony’s.
A bolt of regret goes through him now, but Anthony has slept in worse places than a mattress on the floor. Even one this awkward.
Stumbling a little, Anthony heads for the stairs. A cup of coffee might keep him up but it will also chase away the last threads of cold left by that surprisingly fiery nightmare. He prefers his old nightmares, the ones of fall-
‘Nanny?’ Warlock’s voice, soft in the night, redirects Anthony’s path.
‘My sweet,’ he says in the voice he always uses when Warlock needs Nanny. ‘Why are you awake?’
‘Heard screams,’ Warlock sits up as Anthony turns the light on. ‘Was… was that you?’
Anthony takes a seat at the end of Warlock’s bed and slips back into his usual voice. ‘It was. Sorry kid, you shouldn’t have heard that.’
Warlock crawls up the bed and Anthony opens his arms, letting the kid crawl into them like he used to do when he was a baby and Anthony first stepped in to look after him. Warlock doesn’t hug back - too moody for that even at 3AM - but does put his head on Anthony’s shoulder.
‘You said I should never apologise for nightmares,’ Warlock says. ‘No one should ever.’
Anthony huffs a laugh. ‘You’re right, I did. Got me.’ He squeezes Warlock for a moment, then releases him. Warlock doesn’t move away. ‘I still do need to make sure I don’t wake you; you shouldn't be up this late because of me.’
Warlock tenses for a moment. Ah. ‘You weren’t asleep, were you?’ Anthony asks.
There’s a long moment of silence and Anthony squeezes again, letting Warlock know the chance he has of lying to Nanny. ‘Yeah.’
Anthony sighs. ‘You’re nervous, aren’t you?’
‘No!’ Anthony turns his head so he can see Warlock’s face and raises an eyebrow. ‘...Yes.’ Anthony raises the other eyebrow and waits for Warlock to explain.
Warlock obliges after a long stare down. ‘What if there’s no other kids in the town to play with? What… What if there are and they hate me? What… what if there are and they like me but then Dad makes you… I have to go back to London?’
All fair concerns, bar the last one - Thaddeus would have to remove his head from his arse and give more of a fuck than he did when… no. Anthony politely swallows that thought.
‘Town has a school. Chances are there’s at least one other kid in the place, probably more. You’ve a whole two months before you have to deal with petty school drama, plenty of time to get into whatever trouble’s here for you to find.’ That gets a smile from Warlock, though fleeting.
‘And well. I can’t promise you the kids will like you. Town is small enough that could happen. But if it does, I know a lot of,’ Anthony pauses and thinks. ‘A lot of ways to get vengeance if needed.’
‘Wicked,’ Warlock says softly, though there’s still a glint of fear in his eyes. ‘Will vengeance make them like me?’
‘It’ll certainly make them feel something,’ Anthony says. ‘Best saved for a last resort, after you’ve tried friendship. Friendship usually works much better for the liking of people.’
Warlock does laugh at that, finally shuffling back down the bed. He looks over at the box labelled ‘books’, then back at Anthony, biting at his lip.
Anthony smiles. ‘I think I’m going to read one of your books right now. Mind if I sit beside you to do so?’
‘Sure,’ Warlock says, trying not to sound eager and failing. ‘I don’t mind.’
Swallowing his grin, Anthony grabs the first book he touches in the book and sits on the edge of Warlock’s bed. Warlock wriggles over until he can get himself balanced, then rests his head on Anthony’s shoulder.
‘In a hole in the ground,’ Anthony reads as Warlock shuffles in closer, ‘there lived a hobbit…’
*
Waking up, Anthony can feel every muscle in his back protesting their existence. He blinks, surprised to realise he’s sitting up but that he is definitely not in a chair. Something warm and heavy is on his chest and he looks down to see Warlock is using him as a pillow.
Right. Nightmare. Story. Sleep too apparently, though Anthony would’ve appreciated it if he'd gotten it somewhere else.
He tries to get up but his back screams in pain and it’s all he can do to not scream aloud as he waits for it to subside. Eventually though, it reduces to a point he can try to slip out of bed.
Only to promptly trip on the book he must have dropped on the floor. ‘Fuck,’ he says as he catches himself on the bed, back aching.
‘We need a swear jar,’ Warlock says before yawning. ‘I could get so rich.’
‘Any swear jar I find is being sacrificed to the plants, kid,’ Anthony says which gets a laugh. He reaches into his pocket to grab his phone and isn’t surprised to see it’s after ten. ‘Come on lazy bones, we’ve things to do today.’
Warlock sits up instantly. ‘Hey! You just woke up!’
‘And I’m out of bed and therefore not lazy. Letter not spirit of the law.’
Grumbling Warlock does get up, heading for the bag that contains most of his clothes. ‘Do we even have anything for breakfast? Or to eat at all?’
Anthony freezes. ‘Ah.’
Warlock turns around with a look of glee on his face. ‘MCDONALD’S, MCDONALD’S!’
Fuck, Anthony groans under his breath, I knew eating the last of the fridge food last week was a mistake. ‘We’ll find a cafe. Don’t think this town’s seen a fast-food chain in its life.’
There’s a moment while Warlock considers this before nodding. ‘Fine. I want pancakes. And bacon!’
‘You American,’ Anthony teases as he leaves the room. ‘We leave in ten!’
*
Warlock is halfway through inhaling the pancakes he wanted when he freezes. Anthony, two thirds of the way to awake (and a corresponding two-thirds of the way through his coffee), looks up with a raised eyebrow.
‘You done already?’
‘Uncle Tony, books!’
Anthony follows his glaze and yes, there’s now a small sign on the corner that wasn’t there before, pointing down an alleyway. The words ‘A. Z. FELL BOOKS’ followed by print too small for Anthony to read explains everything.
For someone raised almost solely by Anthony, Warlock has the most curious attachment to books. Sure, he loves his video games - a given really, for a bored child with no close friends - but he also has more books than both his parents combined. A friendship with the gardener when Warlock was a young child had sparked the initial interest but now…
Well now Anthony knows he needs to set strict rules or he’ll be carrying another box home to unpack.
‘After breakfast we’ll have a look. No buying.’ Warlock turns his most pleading of eyes onto Anthony. ‘No! Not until you at least unpack what you’ve already got!’
‘But Uncle Tony-’
‘Warlock.’ Anthony uses Nanny’s no-nonsense voice, the one that says ‘that’s enough dear’ and means it.
With a sigh, Warlock nods. ‘Just a look.’
He looks so despondent that Anthony has to sigh too and throw the poor kid a bone. ‘We get your room done by the weekend and if there are decently priced books in there, you can pick one,’ Warlock starts to cheer, ‘ONE book.’
‘Come on Uncle Tony, we have to go look now!’
Anthony resolves to finish his coffee as slowly as possible.
*
Despite his best efforts, Anthony cannot make his cup of coffee last forever, allowing Warlock to drag him to the bookshop. Anthony pretends to go reluctantly, slow step by step, just for the joy of watching Warlock curse and tug at him to go faster.
They finally slip into the store, Anthony half dragged by an impatient Warlock and stop. It’s a little dusty inside but the walls are lined with books, some on shelves and some stacked wherever there’s space. They all look old, feel old, with the sort of aura that makes you speak quietly lest the books hear. This is a bookstore for old books, Anthony realises, the type that makes you wince at their prices then pay anyway because what you have in your hands is worth so much more. It’s the place you find treasures.
There’s a distinct lack of topic labels or subject guides on any of the shelves, with the exception of the young adult books under a sign in one corner. That corner seems a lot cleaner and clearer than the rest of the store, with a little beanbag tucked beside a shelf. Anthony even spots a bunch of covers on one shelf he recognises from Warlock’s comics, which was not what he expected to see in this type of shop. It almost looks presentable.
Running his hands over a couple of the closer old books, Warlock makes a beeline for the young adult section and, with a glance at Anthony, the comic books.
Smiling, Anthony leaves him to it, ducking down an aisle to see if there is any order to this madness.
Three shelves later and he’s sure there isn’t, with 16th century Bibles next to Wilde second editions, enclosed on either side by Shakespeare’s from all eras of history. It’s the sort of organised chaos you’d find in someone’s personal collection and not at all the kind Anthony expects to find in most bookshops.
But for this one, it does suit.
‘Who are you?’ A young voice asks, close enough Anthony can hear but far enough away it’s muffled. He wanders towards the voice, not surprised to realise it’s coming from the same section he left Warlock in.
‘I’m Warlock,’ Anthony hears Warlock say just as he peeks around a shelf. ‘Who’re you?’
Warlock has his back to Anthony, though turned slightly so Anthony can make out some of his expressions. In front of him is a kid who looks to be about the same age as Warlock, with bright blue eyes and curly dirty blonde hair. He looks charming and delightful, but also like the type of child who knows this and uses it.
‘I’m Adam,’ the boy says, tilting his head. ‘You’re new here.’
Warlock’s shoulders tense up. ‘How’d you know?’
‘I know all the kids round here and I don’t know you. Besides, Wensleydale saw movers four doors up and swore he saw an old car with a kid in it pull up last night. Plus Mr Tyler’s been complaining about a hooligan with a Bentley moving in and we’ve been looking out ‘cause we wanna meet a hooligan. No one will tell us why it’s bad to be a hooligan.’
There’s a long moment of silence before Warlock’s shoulders drop a little. ‘My Uncle Tony’s the one with the Bentley. Says it's practically brand new. Not sure he’s a hooligan but he likes to wear sunglasses indoors and thinks they’re cool.’
‘Wicked,’ Adam says with feeling. ‘Oh! Are you looking for comics?’ Both boys look down at the books in Warlock’s hand. ‘’Cause I’m an expert at comics, Uncle Zira lets me pick what I like for him to ge-’
'Eavesdropping isn't polite you know,' a quiet voice says, making Anthony jump and distracting him from the boys. He turns away from Warlock and Adam, now debating who is the best superhero, to face the speaker.
His heart skips a beat then starts to pound relentlessly. A man is standing there, with bright blue eyes and curly blonde hair just like Adam, though his hair is of a much brighter hue. But where Adam's looks hint at a child who will grow to be traditionally handsome, this man is different. He is soft in every meaning of the word. A soft smile, on a soft face. Even his clothes scream soft, old fashioned as they are.
He is beautiful. An angel come to life.
And staring at Anthony like he expects something. Like an answer. An ans-
Shit.
'Just keeping an eye out,' he somehow managed to say, the fact he managed actual words is a surprise. ‘Warlock’s my responsibility now, gotta watch out for him.’ He pauses because that’s not quite true. ‘Well fully my responsibility now anyway.’
‘Oh?’ the man says, some of the tension dropping from his shoulders. ‘What do you me-’
A deep crack cuts the man off, followed by the room being brightly lit for a moment. Thunder. Anthony turns his head to look out the grime covered window, not at all surprised to see that dark clouds have gathered.
‘Shit,’ he says, turning back towards the man. ‘We’d better go before it-’
‘Uncle Tony, it’s raining!’
Anthony turns to see Warlock looking out the window, eyes wide as he and Adam watch the rain start to bucket down. Keenly aware of the fact they walked here, Anthony moves to join him, Adam shifting over so he can stand beside Warlock.
‘Oh dear,’ the angel says, coming up behind them. ‘That’s a rather unexpected storm, I thought today was going to be clear.’
‘So did I,’ Anthony grumbles. ‘Left the umbrella in a box somewhere.’ He sighs, looking down at Warlock. ‘Two options kiddo - one you stay here and I go get the car,’ he can see Warlock tensing up already so that’s probably not a good option, ‘or two we run home and hope I can find the box of towels before we dry naturally.’
Warlock makes a face even as Adam frowns. ‘You could stay here?’
‘We could, but this could go on a while and we really do need to unpack.’ Warlock makes a hopeful face. ‘No Warlock, I promised a book only after you’re unpacked. Quicker you’re done, the quicker you get one.’
‘There is a third option,’ the angel says and Anthony turns back to look at him. ‘I’ve an umbrella behind the counter here. You could borrow that?’
Oh dear God, this man is actually an angel not just someone who looks like one. ‘You wouldn’t mind?’
He beams and Anthony’s heart starts to pound. ‘Of course not! Just bring it back when you can, I live upstairs so even if the shop is closed you can just knock on the door. Or have - Warlock, was it? - pass it onto Adam. I’m sure they’ll be seeing another again.’
‘Yeah!’ Adam says with bright eyes and Warlock gives him a shy smile.
Yes, Anthony thinks. Warlock’s first friend! ‘Okay,’ he says. ‘Thank you.’
The angel fetches out a white umbrella from behind his counter, with a sleek beige handle. ‘Here,’ he says, offering it to Anthony with a smile. ‘To protect you from your first rain here.’
Smirking, Anthony takes it and herds Warlock out of the store as Adam calls out his number - ooh nice, ending with a 666! - and heads home through the storm.
It’s only once he crosses the threshold of his place that he realises he didn’t get the angel’s name.
‘Shit.’
‘Swear jar Uncle Tony!’
‘Still not a thing kiddo.’
*
So later that evening Anthony ducks out to pick up dinner, Warlock happily busy with book sorting. In the Bentley’s passenger seat is the umbrella, looking innocent and not at all like it prompts Anthony’s heart to pound every time he sees it and remembers how he got it.
The bookshop is still open when Anthony arrives, though Adam isn’t there and the shop seems eerily quiet. Too quiet, almost oppressive…
‘Oh! You’re back,’ the angel’s voice breaks Anthony out of his thoughts and he turns to look at him with a grin.
‘We’ve still not uncovered the boxes with plates and my fridge is empty so I had to get dinner. Thought I’d drop this off on the way home.’
The angel’s eyes light up at the mention of food. ‘Oh! Did you try Jo’s? He does a lovely carbonara dish that is to die for.’
Anthony shakes his head with a laugh. ‘Nah, went to the chippery. Warlock’s had enough fancy pasta meals for a lifetime, I’m going to show him the heights of junk food while we move in.’
‘That sounds like a long story,’ the angel says carefully and Anthony freezes. It is but…
But he almost feels like he could tell it to this man. Now. Thirty seconds into their second conversation.
‘It is. And I’ve left Warlock at home with his books,’ Anthony says, swallowing down the stupid feelings clawing at his gut. ‘But I do have a condition, on returning this umbrella.’ He holds it out.
The angel’s eyes narrow even as he takes the other end of it. ‘And your condition is?’
‘Your name,’ Anthony says with a smile, not releasing the umbrella. ‘Can’t keep thinking of you as the angel with the umbrella.’
A pleasing redness comes onto the angel’s cheeks as he ducks his head. ‘I would have thought my name obvious.’ Anthony shakes his head and shrugs. ‘Oh of course, maybe you didn’t see. A. Z. Fell.’
‘A. Z. Fell?’ Anthony laughs as he lets go of the umbrella. ‘That’s a mouthful.’ And okay, yeah, Anthony should’ve guessed it. Not a family bookshop then, unless A. Z. Fell is the second or third of his name.
‘My friends call me Zira,’ the angel replies.
‘Can I?’ Anthony asks before his mouth catches up with him.
Zira pauses then smiles. ‘On one condition.’
Anthony grins back, heart pounding. ‘Yes?’
‘Tell me your name.’
‘Anthony J Crowley,’ Anthony says, holding out his hand. ‘Warlock calls me Uncle Tony; I’m not fussed about what you call me.’
Zira narrows his eyes, his smile slipping off his face. ‘And your friends call you?’
Anthony shrugs and goes to let his hand drop. Zira catches it before it falls and starts to shake it. ‘Well, you let me know what your preference is and it’ll be that.’
Something goes soft in Zira’s glance even as Anthony regrets the words. But then he draws himself up and smiles again, another bright and beaming one.
‘Anthony then,’ he says. ‘It does sound so distinguished.’
‘Urgk,’ Anthony manages before shaking his head and checking his watch. ‘Oh shit, I should go. Warlock’s probably starving by now. See you around Zira?’
‘I dare say I will Anthony,’ Zira says with a wave. ‘After all, it sounds like you’re about to owe Warlock a book.’
Laughing, Anthony nods and waves back, heading to the Bentley. It smells like hot chips which makes his stomach grumble but he barely notices it caught up as he is on Zira.
Zira. A pretty name for an angel, though Anthony’s a little curious as to where the ‘A’ in ‘A.Z Fell’ comes from if Zira is his given name.
‘He could not use it,’ Anthony says to himself as he turns into his parking spot. ‘Lord knows you changed yours the moment you could. Some people don’t bother with the effort, don’t pry.’
Warlock comes running at the sound of the door, pulling the chips out of Anthony’s grip before he can so much as say hello. ‘Oi!’
‘HiUncleTonycanIhavesomepleasethankyou,’ he manages to say in a rush and Anthony grabs him before he can disappear with the lot.
‘We’re sitting at the table for this so we can share,’ he says. ‘I want some too before you make them disappear.’
Warlock glares but lets himself be led into the dining room where Anthony’s desk is acting as a table. He’ll need to find an actual table for this place, his old one hadn’t needed one.
He mentally adds it to the list as he tucks into the chips. ‘Books unpacked?’
Warlock narrows his eyes then smiles. ‘They are. Do you wanna see Zira again?’
‘How’d you know his name?!’
‘Adam told me,’ Warlock holds out his phone. ‘He’s added me to the Them chat and they’re all…’ he shrugs, ‘they’re alright. Pepper’s cool and Wensleydale only lives a couple doors down. Said we can meet in the forest if it's not raining tomorrow and I can see them for reals.’
Oh, thank someone, Warlock’s fitting in. Making friends. Being sociable like he should have always been able to. But-
‘They pick you up from here,’ Anthony says, sighing when that makes Warlock tense up. ‘We don’t know the forest here kiddo so I wanna meet the rest of the gang before you vanish into it. And get at least one of their parent’s numbers.’
Warlock looks at him with glee. ‘I’ll get Adam to give you his uncle’s. You’ll like that.’
‘His uncl-’ Oh wait no, Adam had called Zira uncle. ‘Warlock, no, no, no-’
‘Okay, I will!’ Warlock grins and grabs a final handful of chips. ‘Gonna go set up my computer, bye!’
Sighing, Anthony waves him off, helping himself to another few chips. There should be enough left to feed them for breakfast though Anthony will have to find the local grocery place as soon as he can. With another sigh, Anthony goes to his cupboards for a container.
His empty cupboards. Right.
Cursing, Anthony goes to search through boxes, keeping an ear out for Warlock’s inevitable call for help with the computer.
Does this count as failing at moving? he wonders, opening boxes at random as he struggles to recall what the ones he packed his kitchen into looked like. God, I hope not.
‘Uncle Tony!’ Warlock cries just as Anthony gets the right box open.
Kids. Predictable.
‘Maybe I’m not failing that much,’ he says, throwing the chips into the container and heading for the stairs. ‘I can do this.’
*
‘Uncle Tony, wake up! They’re coming!’
Startled awake, Crowley tries to blink away the sense of being on a cobbled London street, walking side by side with Zira and eating hot chips, as Warlock shakes him. He squints up at his kid who looks like he’s ready to go out, before rolling over to check the time.
7AM blinks at him and he groans.
‘Why are you awake?’ he asks as Warlock continues to shake him.
‘They’re coming! The Them.’ Warlock pauses looking a little cautious. ‘You said I could go with them…’
‘I didn’t think they'd be here before the sun rose!’ Anthony snaps, then catches himself. ‘No, sorry, I shouldn’t have spoken like that,’ he says and watches Warlock's shoulders lower. Okay. ‘Did we set a time?’
Warlock shakes his head. ‘No, but Adam messaged just now and I’m ready to go.’
Anthony pulls himself out of bed, grabbing his dressing gown and throwing it on. ‘You had breakfast?’ he asks as he gestures for Warlock to lead the way downstairs.
‘Yeah, the chips from last night.’ Warlock looks at him shyly. ‘Left some for you.’
‘You didn’t have to kiddo.’ Anthony opens the fridge and fishes out the nearly empty container. ‘I’ll grab something at the shops when I go. You can have these.’
Warlock grins and begins to scarf down the chips, not even heating them up the heathen. Rolling his eyes Anthony pulls out the newly located kettle and starts making himself coffee in the only mug they’ve found so far.
He really does need to get at least the kitchen boxes unpacked. For coffee, if nothing else.
The doorbell rings. ‘They’re here!’ Warlock adds unnecessarily, jumping out of his seat.
‘Container in the sink before you get that!’ With a groan, Warlock drops the container in the sink and sprints at the door. A moment later voices come from the hallway, quiet at first before increasing in volume.
‘Bye Uncle Tony!’
Oh cheeky little shit. ‘No you don’t!’ Anthony calls back. ‘Bring them in here so I can meet them or you don’t go!’
There’s a long moment of silence, then the sounds of footsteps coming up the hallway. Adam pokes his head around the door first, grinning when he sees Anthony. A moment later he’s followed into the kitchen by Warlock, a girl and two more boys. One of the boys has dark hair and looks like he’s already been to the woods today, while the other has brown hair and gives off the most ‘accountant’ like vibes Anthony’s seen on anyone in years.
The girl is glaring at Anthony and he finds himself liking her instantly. ‘You could have come out,’ she says and yes, Anthony likes her.
‘Making coffee,’ he says, pointing at his cup. ‘And Warlock promised to introduce me so I’d know who he’s with, for safety.’ He gives her a look that makes her glare more. ‘We’re from the city kiddo, not used to free ranged kids yet.' He frowns then shrugs. ‘At least not at your age.’
That gets her to narrow her eyes then nod. Success.
‘So, names Warlock?’
Warlock shakes his head. ‘Oh right. Ah. Pepper,’ he points at the girl, ‘Brian,’ the dark-haired boy, ‘and Wensleydale,’ and the remaining boy. ‘You already met Adam.’
Anthony nods at each of them in turn. ‘Nice to meet you all. I’m Anthony.’
There’s another long, slightly awkward silence. ‘You’re not giving us your last name?’ Brian says eventually.
‘You gave me your first names, I’ll give you the same courtesy,’ Anthony says. ‘Besides being called Mr Crowley makes my teeth hurt. If Anthony doesn’t work for you, I’ll also answer to Nanny or ‘Hey you’, though you might wanna not use that around your parents.’
‘Nanny?’ Brian says at the same time Wensleydale says, ‘Well Wensleydale isn’t my first name…’
‘Don’t police his name!’ Pepper snaps at Brian. ‘Should we have asked for pronouns?’ she asks Anthony.
He smiles and gives Warlock an approving nod that has him blushing. Good kids. ‘He/Him for now. Will update you when they change.’
Pepper nods. ‘She/Hers,’ she says and the other kids rattle off their pronouns, all He/Him. Pepper sniffs after they’re done. ‘Why do you want Zira’s phone number from us?’
Anthony groans. ‘I don’t want his number,’ he lies, reaching over to mess up Warlock’s hair just as the kid finishes fixing it. ‘I want a number from one of you, for a parent that I could call if Warlock doesn’t come home.’ He looks at the kids, putting seriousness into his tone. ‘I don’t know your families, or this area. If Warlock doesn’t come home, I don’t know who to go to just to start looking.’
There’s a solemness in the air that Anthony doesn’t like so he smiles and adds, ‘After all, Warlock’s already tried to run away at least fifty times. Even managed to get past the driveway once; was halfway down the street before we found him.’
As predicted, Warlock groans. ‘That was one time Nanny and I was five.’
‘My little Hellspawn,’ Anthony says affectionately and Warlock groans again. ‘Now go on, go play. Text me a number of a parent - not Zira you little devil.’
Warlock salutes lazily with the wrong hand - Anthony’s so proud of his little trouble maker - and they head for the door. Two minutes later Anthony’s phone dings with a text.
Arthur Young, it reads followed by a number.
A second one comes as he’s reading.
Zira Fell, with another number.
Brat, Anthony texts back.
He saves both numbers.
*
Anthony’s just unpacking from the grocery shop when Warlock texts, asking to meet at the bookshop so he can get his book.
It’s like the kid has cameras, just to know when the most inconvenient time to message is. Saying no will send Warlock into a sulk and Anthony did promise. But saying yes means going back out and Anthony’s not sure he has the energy for that.
Bookshop does mean seeing Zira again though.
Anthony sighs and goes to find his keys.
*
‘One book kiddo,’ Anthony warns as he walks up to the bookshop where Warlock and his new friends are already waiting. ‘I mean it.’
‘Uncle Ton-’
‘One.’
Warlock sighs but nods and races into the store, the other kids trailing in his wake. They all rush to the young adult’s section and moments later a fierce debate starts up over if two comic books are technically worth one book (Wensleydale), or if two books are worth one comic book (Pepper) and how that could be used to stick to the deal and still get two things out of it (Adam).
‘Sorry we’re about to c- Anthony!’
Anthony turns around and smiles at the sight of Zira, who is just coming out of his office. ‘Hey Zira. If you’re about to close, I can wrangle the kids here, come back tomorrow…?’
‘Oh no! No, not at all.’ Zira looks around, then leans in. ‘I thought you were after one of the ah, the older books. One of those awful collectors just out to buy books cheaply and then sell them.’ He looks outraged. ‘Can you imagine?’
‘A bookshop selling books? It does seem a little hard to grasp,’ Anthony teases and Zira rolls his eyes.
‘Oh, not like that,’ he says with a wave of his hand. ‘I mean… Oh.’
Smirking, Anthony looks over at the kids, now debating Batman (Brian) versus Iron Man (Wensleydale) versus Wonder Woman (Warlock, Pepper) versus Dog (Adam - though who Dog is escapes Anthony). He feels his smile soften at the way Warlock’s in the centre of the group, though he groans internally at the sight of the pile of books in his hands.
‘Sell more kids books then?’ Anthony asks as Zira moves to stand beside him. ‘If you’re so picky about your ‘older books’.’
‘Some of my books are incredibly rare,’ Zira says in a tight voice. ‘Being picky about their owner will ensure they survive into the future.’
Then, as Anthony glances over, he relaxes. ‘But yes. I do sell more of the younger books as it is. Not much use for old books in a village like this but everyone here has children, or knows children and they’re always growing. Always changing.’
Anthony looks back at Warlock. ‘I do know that feeling.’ He sighs then adds, ‘Look, I asked the kids for a number of a parent so I could track Warlock down if he was late and they gave me yours.’
Zira’s eyes widen and he blinks. ‘Mine?’
‘Yeah. And Arthur Young? Which does not help because I’ve no clue who he’s related to. Look… I can delete it if you want, I don’t want to have something you don’t want me to have but I need to know who Arthur belongs to an-’
‘You can keep it,’ Zira says, cutting Anthony’s increasingly winded rant off. ‘For a new condition.’
Anthony blinks, something warm in his gut heating up. ‘Yes?’
‘You give me yours.’
Words escape Anthony’s throat as his heart starts to pound. He feels his mouth open a couple of times before heat rushes to his cheeks.
‘Nrgk, hurgh sure,’ he finally manages to say, pulling out his phone. He texts the number labelled ‘Zira’, a simple Hello :)
Hello Anthony, he gets back and yeah okay, he didn’t need his heart anyway.
‘Uncle Tony!’ Warlock calls, forcing Anthony to stop looking at the smiling Zira to pay attention to his kid. Who is carrying a pile of books as tall as he is.
‘No,’ Anthony says instantly.
Warlock leans around the pile to pout at him. ‘But I don’t have any of them and Adam says this book is great and Pepper says I can’t read that one if I don't’ read this one and-’
‘Kiddo, we said one book. Now there’s two choices here, either you pick the book you want the most or I pick a book at random.’ Anthony tilts his head as the kids behind Warlock gasp. ‘Which option do you prefer?’
Warlock looks up and down the pile. ‘Can you pick?’
Anthony reaches into the pile and carefully pulls out the one book whose title he recognises. Warlock had mentioned it a couple of times so it’s probably the book he planned on getting before all the recommendations from his friends.
‘Now put the rest back where you found them. And Warlock-' Warlock pauses mild turn, ‘-maybe write down the titles. Your birthday is coming up soon.’ Anthony frowns as he does the maths. ‘Oh next month kiddo. Not long at all.’
Beaming, Warlock sprints off accompanied by his cheerful friends talking about birthdays and parties.
‘Warlock’s birthday is August then?’ Zira asks and Anthony jumps.
‘Oh yeah, the 20th,’ he replies, passing the book to Zira. Who looks at it confused for a moment until Anthony flashes his card at him.
‘Oh! Yes! Of course. Selling books.’ He heads for the counter, pulling out an old credit card imprinter. ‘When you’re ready?’
Anthony stares. ‘You have to be kidding me. You don’t use that for real.’
Zira looks up and smirks. ‘You know, you’re the first person to call me out on this.’ He reaches down again and pulls out an actual card machine which he slowly types numbers into. ‘Most people hand over the card and watch with horror as I use it.’ He looks around and leans in. ‘It’s good for weeding out the people who actually want the books.’
‘You just don’t want to sell,’ Anthony says as he taps his card. ‘No computer though?’
‘It’s in the back. Too old for this machine Adam talked me into, so I just keep careful track of my receipts and do the maths later.’ Zira grabs a pen and a notepad sitting beside him and, faster than Anthony thought possible, writes out a receipt for the book.
‘Here,’ he says, handing it over to Anthony. ‘Please, do come again.’ He looks up at Anthony with a soft smile. Anthony stares back, aware his smile is probably just as soft.
‘Uncle Tony!’
‘Uncle Zira!’
Both Adam and Warlock bounce up, causing Anthony to blink out of it. ‘Yes kids?’
‘We have the same birthday!’ they say together bouncing on the spot. Behind them the other three kids look just as excited.
‘That is a coincidence!’ Zira frowns then his own eyes widen. ‘Oh yes, you did say the 20th.’
‘Can we have a combined party?’ Adam asks Anthony. ‘If Warlock’s allowed? Mum and Dad are having one for me and everyone’ll be there already so we’ll just make sure Warlock gets to plan too and it’ll be awesome cause now Mum can’t say no to a castle-’
Anthony holds up a hand. ‘Let me talk to your parents first before we get into planning.’ He looks down at the kids’ pleading faces. ‘But if your parents are okay with it, I am too.’
‘YES!’ the kids scream and Anthony wishes he had earplugs.
*
Adam shows Anthony and Warlock to his place, in exchange for a lift home. Anthony’s not sure how the kids got the two bikes into the back of his Bentley along with themselves but he’s not looking too closely and isn’t asking any questions.
A dark-haired man is out the front checking the letter box when Anthony pulls up and he gives Anthony’s car an admiring look. Doesn’t comment though, even as Adam bounces out of the car and runs up to him.
‘Hi Dad! Can we have a joint party please?’
Adam’s dad blinks, then looks over to Anthony who is helping Warlock wrestle Adam’s bike out of the back of the car without damaging anything. ‘Mr Dowling?’
Both Anthony and Warlock flinch, before Anthony pastes on his most charming smile and turns back to face the man. Adam looks a little worried and Anthony gestures at him to help Warlock as he approaches Adam’s father.
‘Crowley actually. I’m Warlock’s uncle.’
‘Oh! My apologises, Adam only mentioned Warlock’s name and I assumed… Arthur Young.’
‘Anthony Crowley,’ Anthony says as they shake hands. At least he knows who Arthur belongs to now.
Arthur raises an eyebrow as the kids manage to get the bike out. ‘What’s this about a joint party?’
‘Warlock and Adam,’ Anthony supplies. ‘They share a birthday and the kids have asked if they can, well. Combine the parties.’ Understanding dawns on Arthur’s face as Anthony leans in to add in a whisper, ‘I think they’re going about this wrong and should be insisting on two parties but I also think Adam wants a bouncy castle and thinks having an extra birthday person might help…?’
Laughing, Arthur nods. ‘He does indeed,’ he says and leans back. ‘I’ve no problem if the kids want to combine the party, but I’ll have to check with my wife first. She’s the one making the cake after all.’
‘Daaaad! We get separate cakes!’
Anthony shakes his head. There’s the self-interest of children. ‘I’ll make Warlock’s cake, that’s no issue. If your wife agrees, I’ll give you my number and we can organise what you need me to help with.’
They shake hands again and Anthony leaves, his number in Arthur’s phone and a delighted and chatty Warlock listing off things they should think about including in the party.
‘...and a magician!’
‘No! Not after what you did to the one last year.’ Warlock at least has the good sense to look ashamed about that; the poor magician had left just as the food fight took over the party covered in the stuff and even though he hadn’t been that good, Anthony felt sorry for the poor guy.
No, not happening again.
Warlock pouts for a moment before going back to his lists of cool things, most of which Anthony knows he'll have to veto.
But not now. Let the kid have his fun now.
*
The next few days pass in a haze of unpacking and desperate rearranging, as Anthony struggles to find the perfect place for all his things. Somehow, despite having moved into a house from a flat, there is not enough space for everything he bought.
Or more accurately, there’s space but not enough cupboards/shelves/general storage space for them.
Warlock is delighted with the trip to the nearest Ikea, which is far too far away for Anthony’s liking.
‘Ikea is Hell,’ Anthony declares after surviving the last two hours in one with a hyped-up pre-teen who’d had too much sugar from the restaurant. Probably deserves a medal for surviving that. ‘And you are not hanging out with the Them this afternoon.’
‘What?’ Warlock turns outraged eyes on Anthony as they get the last of the small shelves into the station wagon Arthur had managed to get someone to lend Anthony. Small towns are insanely friendly.
‘Why not?!’
Anthony eyes off the half dozen boxes in the car, intimidating only because he knows there’s a whole group more coming tomorrow with the delivery. ‘Because we’re building today.’
He pauses, half in the car then sighs. This is ridiculous, a stupid thing he’s about to sign up for. But Warlock will like it…
‘You can text them to help if you want but if any of them break anything instead of building it, you’re all responsible for fixing it.’
Cheering, Warlock bounces the whole drive home.
*
It’s a disaster.
But it’s a fun one.
The kids get the hang of the Ikea instructions - whoever invented them was a demon and Anthony hates them with a passion - faster than he does but are more easily distracted. Wensleydale likes sorting the screws that come with each box while Pepper delights in messing them up, so that’s a fight Anthony has to manage constantly. Brian somehow gets greasy fingerprints on everything but is a wizard at getting things that weren’t going together to go together all of a sudden. Dog, Adam’s very well behaved, ah well dog, just bounces around the room somehow never underfoot except for how he’s always on top of the tool they need next.
Warlock and Adam swap off being project managers of each furniture piece while Anthony’s job ends up being making sure that the kids build what the instructions say, instead of what they think will look cool.
It’s unsurprisingly, the hardest job because hell yes, Anthony would like a castle shaped bookcase but they don’t have enough wood for that, damn it.
‘But-’
‘Kid no buts. Now come on, what else have we got to build?’
‘I think that’s it,’ Wensleydale says, marking off the newly built bookcase on his list of things to do. ‘Until tomorrow.’
The kids all look delighted at the idea of another day of building furniture. Eyeing the pizza they ordered in for lunch and the various lollies and chocolates raided from his cupboards, Anthony’s sure he has no clue why. A grocery run is needed tonight for sure; get enough ingredients to feed six instead of two. It’s a little surprisingly there were enough sweets for all of the kids today, but every time Anthony went to the cupboard, he found another lolly packet.
Must just have bought more sweets than he thought. Sneaky Warlock.
Adam’s eyes go wide. ‘We can go see Anathema!’
From the way the other kids react, this is a plan of epic proportions, though Warlock exchanges a look of complete confusion with Anthony.
‘Hey kids, who’s Anathema?’
*
Anathema, it turns out, is the local witch. Something the kids eagerly tell him on the walk over to her place, talking over another to detail the coolness of Anathema and how she was the best thing to happen to the village before Warlock and Anthony came, and how she is totally an actual witch with real powers and definitely, definitely cool.
So when a young man is the one to open the door, one who does not fit any of the descriptions, Anthony’s a touch underwhelmed.
‘Oh hi guys,’ he says, blinking at the kids on his porch. ‘Ana’s out the back trying to convince the chickens to get back into their pen.’ He steps aside to let the kids in, then blinks again as he seemingly notices Anthony. ‘Oh sorry, who are you?’
‘Anthony Crowley, Warlock’s uncle. Newcomer to his quaint place and the kids insisted we needed to meet Anathema.’
The man nods and holds out a hand. ‘Newt Pulsifer.’ After Anthony shakes it, he looks down at Warlock who is lingering by Anthony’s side. ‘You must be Warlock, right? Adam mentioned you.’
He offers his hand to Warlock as well which exceeds every opinion Anthony’s formed of him so far. ‘Come on in then, I’m sure Anathema needs the extra help.’
‘How did the chickens get out of the pen?’ Anthony asks as Newt leads them through the house. It’s a lovely little cottage, the sort you usually see as a short-term home but something about the place feels more lived in than those sorts of places usually do. The mess for one thing, which Anthony heartily approves of.
‘Ahh well…’ Newt shows them outside before he manages to splutter an answer and one look at the outside is answer enough. The ‘pen’ is more alleged than anything else, chickens running frantically around as Dog tries to obey the Them’s very confusing commands while a woman, who is so utterly stylish she has to be Anathema, tries to convince the pen’s poles that they really want to stay upright.
Newt sighs. ‘We’re having a few technical issues,’ he says and moves to Anathema’s side. ‘Ana? Warlock and his uncle are here? I can try and get this back for you while you say hello.’
Anathema looks up and nods. Newt takes the pole and immediately drops it as Anathema walks over and offers her hand to Anthony.
‘Anathema Device,’ she says, then offers the same hand to Warlock once Anthony’s shaken it and given his own name. ‘Anathema,’ she says again. ‘Adam’s mentioned you Warlock.’
‘From the way the Them talk, you’re the best thing since sliced bread,’ Anthony comments, watching as Newt manages to get the pen vaguely square shaped. ‘What happened here?’
‘For once, not me!’ Newt calls out, sounding very pleased.
The kids all stop and stare. ‘You didn’t do this?’ Brian says with clear disbelief. ‘You always do!’
Newt grins as he manages to get one of the poles upright. Anthony steps over to hold it for him, when he is clearly struggling, and Newt lets go with a nod. He starts to hammer it in as Anathema moves to do the same.
‘He’s right, for once-’
‘Hey!’ Newt says with a smile and Anathema sticks her tongue out at him.
‘-that he wasn’t responsible’’ She continues ‘Mr Tyler,’ everyone groans except Anthony who has yet to meet the terror of Tadfield according to Warlock, ‘came to complain about the noise with that dog of his.’
Anthony looks between the chickens, now huddled in a corner with Dog guarding them, and Anathema. ‘The chicken noises?’
Anathema nods. ‘And property values if we keep birds in the village instead of on farms where they belong. Farms like his, as if his isn’t a glorified cottage with an orchard.’ She sniffs and moves onto another pole, pointing at the wire for the kids to start dumping everywhere.
‘How’d that translate into you having no chicken pen?’ Anthony lets go of his pole and starts helping the kids get the mesh into something more organised and pen shaped.
‘His dog got loose,’ Newt says and steps back, hands held up high. ‘Mr Tyler started chasing her and she tripped him right into it.’
‘Luckily all the birds were huddled in the corner after the dog started barking,’ Anathema adds, stepping back from the completed pen. ‘Or I’ll have to curse him instead of wanting to.’
‘You can curse people?’ Warlock says with delight, as the rest of the Them look at Anathema with glee.
‘No,’ Anthony says. ‘No curses until you’re eighteen.’
The kids all groan as Anathema nods. 'And shown you are mature enough for curses. They're not toys.'
Nodding, the kids turn to look at the cowered chickens and Dog.
'Think he can herd them in?' Warlock asks finally.
Adam just grins.
*
Thirty minutes, two falls by Newt, and one lot of finally caged but very distressed chickens later, they are sitting in Anathema's kitchen. The kids are perched on whatever flat surface they can find, bar the table, while Anthony and Anathema take the only chairs. Newt, to Anthony's surprise, is in charge of making drinks.
Anathema notices him looking. 'Newt's better at hot chocolate the kids claim-'
'Cause I use proper cocoa!'
'-and I can't seem to make normal tea work. Witchy tea no problem, I can make a cup that'll help with healing no problem but black tea eludes me.' She looks over at Newt with a grin. 'Besides, Newt always seems to get people's tea orders perfect without needing to ask.'
Newt smiles as he puts a cup before her. 'I've had to make a lot of tea for people as the newbie. You learn fast or no one will talk to you, especially after you break the network.'
Anthony laughs, though he's alone. 'Wait, you're serious? How many times did you break a network?'
'Too many times,' Newt says with feeling. 'Knew a lot of the IT guys in my borough by name… word got around, especially after I managed to take out the High Street that one time.'
Anthony blinks. 'Impressive.' He looks around the kitchen and notes the lack of high-tech gadgets in the kitchen. 'Settled in here alright though? Kids mentioned you were new.'
Newt shrugs. 'Hasn't been too bad.' He grins over at Adam. 'I've only been mildly terrified by this lot.'
Adam grins back, looking completely innocent in a way that Anthony knows means he's guilty as charged. 'We did nothing.'
Anathema snorts. 'You never do anything, until the place is on fire and Mr Tyler is screaming.'
'That was one time!' Brian cries.
'And not even our fault really,' Wensleydale adds. 'We just happened to be occupying the same space as the fire.'
'It was wicked cool,' Adam states while Anthony tries to be a responsible adult and not laugh at the images in his head. 'And we helped put it out when it got too close to Miss Hill's.'
Warlock looks at Anthony with wide, bright eyes. 'Can we do a campfire?' he asks, his accent slipping into one of the more American ones he uses.
Anthony nods as the kids start excitedly discussing what they could do around a fire. 'Not tonight, I'll need you kids to get your parents to agree to it. But soon.'
'Ooh I'll ask Uncle Zira to come too!' Adam says, scrambling for his phone. 'He makes the best food, it'll be great.'
Anathema looks from the kids, who are looking even more bright eyed to Anthony, who is rolling his eyes. 'Oooh,' she says before herding them in for tea.
Anthony ignores her. And the kids. If Adam wants Zira there for good food, well that's fine with him. One more set of eyes to watch the kids in the dark.
Can't go wrong with that. No other reason to want him there at all.
Nope. No other reason what. So. Ever.