Chapter Text
“Well, what do we have here?” a voice asked, muffled but with a noticeable accent. “What is a mortal like you doing all the way down here?”
Through dark and blurry vision, the ‘mortal’ tried to focus on whoever was talking to him. It was hard though, what with a body that didn’t want to listen to him. Heck, for all he could figure the only reason he hadn’t collapsed on the floor was because something was holding him up by the pits. Something rough that hardened as it wrapped around each of his biceps kept him aloft. Regardless of his weariness or restraint though, eventually he managed to force his gaze up.
“Got a problem with that, limey?” the mortal said with a voice just as gruff and old-sounding as always, though infinitely more exhausted. He couldn’t quite tell exactly what the “person” he was talking too looked like. His vision was going in and out, with much more “out” than not, the “in” being murky and dark at the best of moments. Despite that, he could see a vaguely human shape standing above him. Draped in a brown cloak and golden…mask. That or he was talking to some kind of British deer if its horns were anything to go by.
The figure laughed, but was otherwise unfazed by the question. Though whatever was holding the mortal up tightened its grip, as if taking offense for the figure. Once the laughter subsided, the figure kneeled to meet the mortal’s gaze. “On the verge of death in the worst imaginable place to do so and still so lively. Yes, I think you’ll do nicely.”
Raising both hands, the figure gripped one of his gold-studded gloves in the other and pulled. What lurked beneath was not a hand the color any flesh was supposed to be. Instead, it was a putrid thing of greens and blacks that shifted at any given moment as if it was filled with ooze just looking for a place to seep out. The mortal tried to pull away as the fetid hand reached forward, but whatever was holding him in place didn’t budge at all. The mortal gritted his teeth, preparing for his terrible day to get even worse, when–
---
Chapter 1: Prep
Dipper
The clink of glass shook Dipper from his concentration, at once halting the constant tapping of his keyboard.
“Sorry,” Anne said right before another few glass bottles collided. “I just wanted to…clean up my mess before I left.”
Dipper looked at her out of the corner of his eye, her and the myriad of bottles she’d brought with her the night before. A few had made their way into the trash bag she was lightly wringing between her gripped hands, but more from the pair of drained six-packs remained haphazardly strewn across the floor. How she drank all those and whatever had been left in her wake without ever getting a hangover was probably worthy of study, but between school, the club’s business, and having to shampoo his now beer-stained carpet again, he had enough on his plate.
A few more bottles swished into the bag before clinking with what was already in there, then, “And I’m sorry for doing…it again.”
Dipper bit his tongue. There were so many things he wanted to tell her off about, to yell and scream and shout in her face for what she kept doing, but he didn’t. Instead, he partially swiveled around in his seat and said, “Can we just not talk about it?”
Anne wrung the trash bag between her hands under his gaze. Her light brown skin was still damp from the shower she had tried to slip quietly in and out of to wash off the stench of booze with, and thus her day-old outfit was partially clinging to her body. Dipper had been able to tune out the sound of running water and occasional splurt of backed up shampoo or bodywash to get some classwork done, but now that she was trying to be helpful…with every clink of glass reminding him of how her poor life choices were affecting him…he just wanted her to go.
“I know you probably don’t believe me,” she said, meeting his eyes for a brief moment before returning her gaze to the floor, “but I am trying to stop. It’s just that we’re so close, which reminds me how long she’s been gone. And then the only thing that makes it feel better is–”
“Can we just not talk about it, please?” Dipper repeated before her voice could crack, this time adding extra emphasis. She actually winced at please, fat lot of good the word ever did any other time. He wished he’d learned that lesson from Stan before it had been too late. Dipper sighed, “Besides, don’t you still have something you have to do before the meeting?”
“But I–”
Dipper’s hands tightened on his arm rests as she started to reach out for him. He was only able to unclench once she lowered the hand and thankfully backed another step away.
“Right,” she replied after a moment. Dipper thought he heard a sad sigh between the shifting of the bag and continued clinking of glass, but didn’t care. “I’ll just take the trash and go.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
A moment passed, then one more glass clink, then the strained sound of the dorm’s old door handle filled the room. “See you later.”
He thought there might have been another “I’m sorry” beneath the light thud of the door closing behind her, but like all the others it meant nothing. If you can apologize for something a thousand times and still keep doing it how sorry could you really be?
For now he was alone again, safe in the quiet. It wouldn’t be until that evening that he’d have to deal with her or her “Anne-tics” as the others called them. They only saw the one side of those antics though, and probably wouldn’t give them cute nicknames otherwise. But that was hours away, and luckily before any of it did or didn’t work he’d get to spend some time with–
“Ding dong!” Wendy announced as she barged into the room, dropping her overstuffed backpack and slamming the door behind her. The floor shook under with the bag’s impact, reminding Dipper that all the variety of school and ‘life’ supplies she carried with her could kill a man if dropped on him incorrectly. Though he was always amazed how effortlessly she handled it all. “How’s my favorite study buddy?”
“Fine,” he replied, flashing her one of his rare smiles. “Ready to work on the–”
“Fine’s putting it mildly,” Wendy said, grinning as she nonchalantly slid beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Dipper instantly felt his face start to heat up. As always she smelled like pine, same as the ones surrounding the town they’d met in. She nudged his arm with her free hand and added, “I passed a certain someone doing a certain walk of shame in the hall.”
The heat, along with the blood, drained from Dipper’s face.
“I didn’t know you had that much game, Dip. I mean, I’ve passed her in the locker room, so I know why they call her ‘Boobchuy’,” she said with a chuckle. “Am I gonna lose more of my Dipper-time to that club now that you got a girlfriend out of it?”
It took everything Dipper had not to vomit. Wendy thought he and Anne were anything? She was the one person he’d never want to think that, no matter the reason. The very thought was…it was just…
“Anne and I aren’t…together,” he managed to scrape out after a moment. He tried to make it sound casual, oh how he tried, but he didn’t think it was as convincing as he meant for it to be. “We’re nothing…like that.”
“But I saw–”
“Anne gets drunk sometimes,” Dipper said quickly, not meaning to cut Wendy off but not being able to help himself. He needed to get this out of the way before it tore his insides to shreds. “And I remind her of someone she hasn’t seen in a long time. So when she drinks, she stumbles over here and I…I put up with it for the night.”
Wendy let out a little ‘awww’ and leaned her head against his. “I think that impresses me even more.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” she said, as if it should have been obvious. “I want you to have a good time while we’re in school, but knowing you’re still the same guy I met during summer vacation, I like that a lot more.”
Dipper actually felt himself smiling again.
“Plus, now I know you’ll take care of me if I ever wander in drunk,” she added as she stood back up, stretching a bit while smiling at him. He’d always enjoyed her nonchalant little grin. That too-cool-for-school look of her hadn’t changed in the past few years, never seeming too into anything even though he knew even she spazzed out about some things. “I could do it too, you unwisely gave me a key.”
“Drunk or not, I’d be glad to take care of you over letting some rando at a party or whatever do who knows what.”
“You could be that rando if you left your room a little more often.”
“What?”
“Hmm?”
A moment passed where he just looked at Wendy, unsure exactly what he’d heard while she just seemed confused by his confusion. Then the moment ended and she turned her attention to the bag she’d dropped on the way in. Dipper looked away as she bent over to ruffle through it, not needing to stare at her behind as her jeans rode up from the movement. Not for more than a few seconds anyway.
“Anyway,” she said after tossing a few books and random items to either side. The floor was getting covered in junk again, but this time he didn’t mind. “I know I’m early, but I finished the numbers for our report and wanted to run them by you. Pretty sure the last step needs to be tweaked.”
A bent and battered three-ring binder with papers sticking out of it from every which way emerged from Wendy’s bag before being unceremoniously dropped on the desk. It wasn’t the first time he had seen or even worked from one of the messes that contained Wendy’s notes and projects, but it never ceased to amaze him how she could not only keep her work in such binders but also be able to find things in them at all. But, without fail, she could open any of them to whatever she needed practically at command. She proceeded to prove this by flipping the binder to a seemingly random page, only for it to be the very page with her notes for their ecology class. A class that was required for her Forest Biology degree and he was just taking for credit. Though it was a credit that saw he and Wendy working together on almost every assignment, so credit well taken as far as he was concerned.
“Maybe that program you were telling me about could check it?”
“It looks good at a glance,” Dipper said, honestly not seeing what she was worried about. Though this was more her field than his, and he didn’t like to discount her opinion on things in general. “But it never hurts to double check.”
Dipper grabbed his mouse and started to close and minimize what he didn’t need on screen, if only to make finding where he’d saved the file he’d modified easier. It had been a population tracker of some sort, but after some code-shifting he was pretty sure it would check their work and help with their paramecium spread project in general. And if it worked for that then maybe a few of the projects their professor had subtly threatened the class with for after spring break wouldn’t actually be so bad.
“Wait a second,” Wendy said, clasping his hand and the mouse with her own just before he could close the word doc he’d started earlier. “Is that your story for creative writing?”
“Yeah?” Dipper replied, hoping against hope she would let it go. Creative writing was a class they were both taking for credit, but while he was still happy for the extra time they got to hang out because of it, he didn’t have nearly as much fun with the process as she did. “But that’s not what you came her for–”
“It is now,” she stated matter-of-factly. Then, in one swift motion, grabbed the back of the chair with her other hand, pulled it and Dipper back, then took a seat herself. Though, with the chair already occupied, she inevitably landed in Dipper’s lap. Not that she seemed too bothered as, now guiding the mouse despite his hand still being on it, she maximized the window to make it easier to read. “You barely let me see anything you do for that class anymore.”
“Because it’s always bad,” he insisted while trying to think of some way to keep her from seeing what he’d hastily typed to avoid thinking of other things that morning. “And it’s based off an old dream, so it barely even counts as something original.”
“You’re just making me want to read it more,” she said, the laughter prominent in her voice.
She leaned back into him, pressing Dipper against the seat. At the same time she crossed one of her arms, bringing his with it, while toying with the locket around her neck and the white gem embedded into it. So now, one arm around her waist, her in his lap, and his no doubt burning red face looking over and resting on her shoulder, he had nowhere to go and was full of confliction about how much he should be enjoying it or not.
“Besides,” she added as she tilted her head just enough for their eyes to meet, “isn’t the whole reason we scheduled our classes together so we could hang out like this?”
It was only in Dipper’s wildest dreams that he’d imagined them hanging out quite like this, but she wasn’t wrong. Besides, Wendy had once seen him in a Peanut Butter and Jelly twin costume. How much more embarrassed could a dumb short story make him feel than that? So, he just decided to give in and let it happen.
Better this than something else anyway.
---
Connie
“And how did your mock test go?” Priya Maheswaran asked over the zoom call.
“Fine, mom,” Connie replied, her flimsy attempt to cover her exhaustion for such question not landing at all. “I scored in the 93rd percentile.”
“Hmmm,” her mother considered. “Room for improvement, but well done Connie.”
“Thanks mom,” Connie said. She wasn’t looking at the screen, instead a piece of paper on her desk held her attention. She ran her pen along the checklist she’d written down to make sure everything was ready for that night’s meeting. Most of the top items on the list, her last school assignments before spring break, had been checked off days ago, which just left the lower half, those for the club, in need of double-checking.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come home for the break?” Priya asked. “Your father and I would like to see you.”
“Maybe in the second half of the week,” Connie said as she glanced at the tubes of prepared materials just out of camera view, mentally counting to make sure they were all still there and in the correct order. “I have a group project I need to meet up for, plus the club meeting.”
Her mother audibly groaned. “I can’t for the life of me understand why you waste your time with that group.”
“Think of it like a sociological experiment,” Connie said, stating one of the rehearsed set of lines she had for things her mother didn’t approve of. “A percentage of the world believes in the things Molly and Dipper do, I’m just trying to understand why.”
“That boy hasn’t tried anything…questionable, has he?”
This actually got Connie to look back at the screen. She knew her mom was just being protective, as odd as that sometimes manifested, but the thought of Dipper of all people doing anything questionable was almost laughable. “Dipper can’t muster being questionable with the girl he’s been crushing on for half a decade. You don’t have to worry about him doing anything. Besides, wasn’t that why I took all those fencing lessons?”
“I suppose…I’ll trust your judgement then,” her mother replied.
Connie managed not to let out a sigh of relief when she wasn’t asked about doing anything questionable herself. Granted, she didn’t think it would be the type of thing her mother was worried about, but mixing the materials for what they were about to attempt at the meeting had produced some…odd gasses with unexpected side effects. But even the time or two that had led to her waking up in Dipper’s room she didn’t think anything had happened. And he never said anything about it, so her “trip” as it were must have been just that. Her going from one place to another, but under the influence of concocted gases. Eventually she’d gotten thicker breathing masks to use while mixing up the supplies, if not for her own safety than to preserve Dipper’s miniscule chance of ever getting with Wendy.
“I’ll try to keep it good judgement,” Connie said.
“You always do. Call us when you think you’ll be able to stop by. We love you.”
“Love you too.”
The call ended and screen went back to the default zoom page. Connie watched it for a moment longer, just to be sure, then closed her laptop. With it shutting down and its fan slowing to a stop the last bit of sound seemed to disappear from the world. She sat there in it, staring at the vials she had painstakingly concocted for tonight’s meeting. Some of them would coat the club room, some would be burnt, but all of it was to one end.
Standing up, Connie let herself drop face first into her bed. She almost gave in to the urge to scream with giddy excitement. To let loose a maddening howl because she was about to be free. Free from familial expectations and lessons she had mastered before the class even started. Free to do what she wanted in a place no living person had ever been before. Oh, how good it would feel to just let loose. But her nosey dorm neighbors hadn’t left yet, and the last thing she needed was to draw attention to herself or her room full of probable contraband.
Instead, she reached under her pillow. Her hand found the small, soft body almost at once and pulled it out. Turning on to her back, she raised the plush into the air above her and admired the small form and how reasonably well it had held up in the near decade since she had made it. She’d only had to replace a little bit of his curly, black hair; the star on his red t-shirt had faded a bit, but the patches she’d used to fix it that time it ripped were barely noticeable; and the seams had held despite all the nights it had kept her company in one way or another. She hugged it to her chest, rolling side to side as she blushed at the thought of finally getting to see him again.
She’d been nine when the boy had walked out of a fiery patch of air. When she’d made her first friend in that lonely forest she’d gotten lost in. When she’d been so afraid, but he’d been so kind. Taking her by the hand while smiling and humming that little tune. She’d never forgotten, nor would she. It was how she calmed herself done when her parents became too overbearing for her to handle. It was what let her fall asleep most nights. It was what, like in this moment and the one later in the night to come, made her feel ready to do anything. And so, as she slid one hand from her chest to somewhere farther down, she started humming it to herself.
Hmmmm hmm hmm mmhmm hmm…
---
Anne
Anne flipped the page of the book she was “reading” as she watched the quad. She hadn’t actually read a single word in all the time she had been out there that morning, but if she didn’t flip the pages every so often someone might notice. And if that someone happened to be who she was waiting for, then things could get tricky. But she was pretty sure who she was waiting on had never so much as noticed her before, and this was far from the first time Anne had waited or followed who she was after.
But, despite how sure she was that she could pull this off, she still had an unsettling tightness in her stomach. Maybe it was because Anne knew this might be her only chance, that if she messed it up then the last few years of research and borderline stalking would all be down the drain. And that probably was part of it. But the fact that she had let it happen again last night was too. A second shower had cleansed the stench of cheap booze and a new set of clothes kept her from seeing exactly what he had when she looking in the mirror, but she knew what she’d done even if she only remembered some of it. God, what would Mar–
Anne was shaken from her spiral as the pages in her tightening grip began to crinkle and tear. With an exasperated sigh, she slid down the tree she’d been leaning against until she was sitting against it and started pressing down the pages as best she could. Though even this only received part of her attention. The rest remained focused on the comings and goings of people outside her dark spot of shade.
The girl Anne was waiting on, the “Initiate” based on what the others called her, should be passing through from the opposite side of the quad any time now. Her schedule wasn’t something you could set your watch to, but it was regular enough that Anne was able to watch her most days. It was tougher at night, between a lack of regularity and the Initiate’s semi-goth/semi-punk wardrobe there were only a few meetings between her and the others Anne had been able to listen in on. But what she had heard between the Initiate, the Trainee, the Lady, and the Head had confirmed so much of what she’d been looking for ever since that day back home. It was what led the club to what they were doing tonight, with only one piece missing to complete the puzzle. A piece Anne knew the Initiate would have with her after the last overheard conversation.
Anne wished she had a better idea of what the others actually looked like, but the few glances she’d ever managed to steal were usually of the back of their heads at night. But, while she couldn’t be absolutely sure the Trainee, Lady, or Head weren’t somewhere around, she had never noticed anyone regularly enough around the Initiate to make her think they were anyone worth worrying about. She was pretty sure none of them even went Rev. U., especially the Lady and Head, but the Trainee seemed too young while the Initiate herself didn’t go to any classes as far as Anne could tell. So, if anything, Anne guessed they just used the school as a base since just about every type of person crossed its grounds every day. What better place for a bunch of wit–
There she was! The Initiate walked onto the quad, wincing a bit at the sudden surge of light she had entered. As usual she was decked out almost entirely in black; skirt, crop-top, boots, even her hair. The brightest piece of clothing she seemed to own, other than the occasional skull or supernatural emblem across her shirts or patched on to her messenger bag, was her old, ratty beanie in the noticeable shade of dark greenish-brown. Granted, the look worked with the Initiate’s apricot-complexion, but even during Anne’s own “dark” phase she’d worn more than just black.
None of that mattered though. Cute look or not, all that Anne needed to focus on in that moment was the Initiate’s messenger bag and the rolled-up piece of paper she could make out just barely sticking out of one side. That would make this a little bit easier at least. A couple dozen hours watching videos online and practicing with Molly and Connie had prepared her, but seeing what she was after gave her some actual confidence.
Standing back up, Anne wiped off her own skirt and adjusted her own bag before starting towards the Initiate. She still had her book out and was still pretending to read it, but with every other step her gaze shifted towards the woman heading towards her. The Initiate didn’t seem to be paying her any mind, just like everyone that she passed whenever Anne had watched her quietly walk through the quad. Good. Anne picked up the pace, aiming her strides so that she’d cross the Initiate at the one point of the sidewalk she could make her plan look the most convincing. Still nothing from the Initiate. Still good. Anne took a deep breath. They were so close now. Just a few more steps and–
Anne’s foot struck a slightly upturned piece of the sidewalk and careened towards the Initiate, falling face-first into a woman who finally noticed her. The partially crumpled book went flying, one of Anne’s hands reached out and up while the other went low, and, surprisingly, the Initiate actually put out her arms.
The whole process of “tripping” and falling took barely a second, but time seemed to slow down as she collided with the Initiate. She had expected to push the goth to the ground, but instead found herself chest-to-chest in a pseudo embrace, the Initiate’s arms wrapped around her while her left arm came to rest on a black-clad shoulder and her right probably looked like she was trying to cop a feel having gone the other direction.
“You ok?” the Initiate asked. Her voice was deep and her dark, almond eyes seeming to pierce right through Anne as they gazed down upon her. Despite herself, Anne could feel the heat build in her cheeks. She’d never been this close to the Initiate before, and to hear anything other than the flippant remarks she tossed at the others come out of her mouth took Anne more off balance than her little trip had.
“Y-yeah,” Anne said as she quickly stepped back, turning around as quickly as she could. She made out as if she was looking for her book, and it must have worked given the Initiate’s continued nicety. “I’m sorry for falling into you.”
“As long as you don’t go falling for me,” the Initiate said, a laugh seeming to coat each word. “’fraid I’ve got too weird a situation going in that part of my life already.”
Anne gave a small chuckle that sounded awkward even to herself. Then, as she finally found her book and had a legitimate reason to stuff something her bag, she said, “I’ll stick to falling because of gravity for now.”
“You might want to avoid that too,” the Initiate said, that same laugh still coating her every word.
An idea occurred to Anne once everything was locked down in her bag. She had originally intended to just run off once she’d done what she needed to, but maybe she could get more. So, instead of just running away while not having to feign embarrassment, Anne turned back to the twenty-something goth, smiled the best she could, and said, “I’ll try. I’m Anne, by the way.”
The Initiate’s brow raised ever so slightly, but relaxed just as quickly. “Janna.”
“Nice to meet you,” Anne said, trying to keep the embarrassment obvious in her voice and not finding that very hard. She wasn’t great with new people to begin with, and this meeting had started a bit closer than even she had intended. “Do you go here? I don’t think I’ve seen you around any of my classes before.”
“Night classes,” Janna stated simply, though not shortly. “I like to surround myself with insomniacs, makes it easier to pull one over on them.”
Another awkward laugh. If Janna was enrolled in night classes her attendance must be practically non-existent. Anne may not have been able to follow her every night, but she had trailed her enough to know classes were the last thing Janna attended on Reverie U’s campus. “Well, if my schedule ever changes, I’ll keep an eye out for you.”
“You do that,” Janna said, tossing back some of her shoulder-length hair. “But let’s avoid the crash next time, ok?”
“Heh, yeah,” Anne said, gripping the strap of her bag in both hands. “Well, see ya.”
“Bye,” Janna called as Anne took off, not outright running but definitely hustling.
She didn’t stop until she had reached the edge of the quad and turned a corner around the Glover building, and even then she didn’t outright stop but only slowed enough so she could reach into her bag and make sure it was actually there. That she had actually done it. She felt the little book first, but shoved it aside. The scroll felt warm in her palm as she wrapped her fingers around it, though this time she made sure not to crush it the way she nearly had the book. But she had it. She’d done it!
“I’m coming,” she said to herself, picking up her pace again. “I’m finally going to find you.”
---
Twilight
“All done with these,” Twilight said as she plopped the stack of books on the library counter. “Thanks for helping me find them before.”
“No problem,” the purple-haired librarian said. With swift and deliberate movements, she started sliding the top books from the pile one at a time, running them under a scanner, then placing them on a cart behind her, mostly without looking. “I hope they were helpful.”
“Oh, they were,” Twilight said, smiling.
Twilight wasn’t going to try and explain what she’d used the reference books for, she’d learned back in high school most people didn’t want to hear about what she was working on. Still, the librarian had been able to get her every book she had needed as if she knew them all by heart. Which had helped immensely as she prepared her spectral analysis devices and fined-tuned their appropriate ranges in the EM field. That would make it all the easier to prove, or more likely disprove, everything they were preparing for.
“Well there’s plenty more where they came from,” the librarian noted as she scanned the last book back into the system. “So come back any time.”
“Will do.”
---
Checking her phone as she exited the Reverie U. library, Twilight shaded her eyes from the intense midday sun while waiting for her app to update. The library was always a bit of a dead spot if you didn’t use their Wi-Fi, but almost as soon as she was outside the connection came back and her update progress updated.
Eighty-three percent data formatted. Not terrible, but hopefully she wouldn’t have to do the entire last seventeen percent manually. Her estimate had been closer to five percent, but a quick diagnostic might get her wide-range spectrograph analyzation set up closer to one-hundred percent ready. Manually updating more than she’d planned would be an especially big pain since she was pretty sure Dipper would be completing a few final assignments with his not-girlfriend for a chunk of the day, so there’d be no one to help her.
Ding.
She looked down at her phone again. The percentage had jumped to eighty-five. Good. Maybe the diagnostic wouldn’t be needed after all.
That would give her some more time to go over her notes. Those speculating about what to do if something actually happened, the more likely speculation for when nothing happened, and then her personal notes on the others. While psychology was far from her expertise, keeping track of why her little cohort was so gung-ho to try something that had no scientific basis had become a bit of a hobby for her. Some made more sense than others, ranging from simple curiosity from the likes of Molly to a kind of scientific interest with Dipper. Then, there was Connie…
Connie was the one whose reasoning she didn’t understand. For all intents and purposes Connie was as intellectual as they came, so her interest and willingness to go along with some of the others’ supernatural beliefs had never completely clicked with Twilight. It wasn’t that Connie was any kind religious, that Twilight could have understood even if it wasn’t something she really connected with with, but Connie still seemed to take in almost everything suggested without so much as a grain of salt. Especially when it came to Anne.
Anne was…well Twilight didn’t want to call her a true believer, but she was the one member of the club that really seemed to believe they’d be able to do what they were planning and go where they wanted. Not that she wanted to know more or hoped it was true the way Molly did with all her ghost-shenanigans, but truly believed it was going to happen. She might have even needed it to be true. Between how much time she spent hunting down old books or other sources, not to mention how much she mumbled to herself about “finding” something, Anne really seemed like she was on a mission. Though what, or perhaps who based on some of the mumblings, Anne was looking for she would never say. Which didn’t exactly make it easier to understand her drive.
But tonight, well, Twilight hoped tonight would help Anne with whatever her mission was in one way or another. In the very small chance that something actually happened maybe it would at least open Anne up about what she was after if not outright fulfill her need. Though personally, given the overwhelming evidence and common sense that all this prep would be for nothing, Twilight hoped that when the ritual ended Anne would see that whatever she was looking for needed to come from somewhere other than centuries-old belief systems about magic.
Though Twilight knew she wasn’t one to talk about doing things with no basis. Despite her skepticism, she had spent the last several weeks building and programming a series of devices to monitor tonight’s event. So maybe they all just needed something to do and she was overthinking it all, especially Anne. At least, that’s what she hoped.
---
Molly
“Are you ready, Scratch!?” Molly asked with her usual exuberance. Not even her overstuffed backpack or the sign she was lugging could dampen her spirits. “Aren’t you excited for tonight!?”
“Take a chill pill, Mol,” Scratch said as he floated along beside her. “I bet none of this witch nonsense ends up working anyway.”
“Don’t be a spoilsport, Scratch. After all the stuff we’ve looked into and all the prep work we’ve done, I’m sure it’s gonna work.”
“All I’m saying is that I’ve been around a while and never seen a witch. So don’t get yer hopes up.”
“But that’s the point of hopes, to accomplish the impossible,” Molly replied, then checked to make sure her airpod was still in after noticing a few looks from the people she was passing. It was, so the people around her must have just been taken aback by her positive exuberance and not because she looked like a crazy woman talking to a ghost no one around her could see. “And besides, aren’t you interested in finally finding out what lies beyond the ghost realm?”
Scratch placed his hands together in front of his face, as if he was about to make a really informed point. “Given everything I’ve ever heard about the alternatives to the ghost realm, whatever we find would either be really good or really, really bad.”
“I like those odds.”
“It’s a coin flip, Mol.”
“A supernatural coin flip,” Molly replied, not at all put off by Scratch’s usual pessimism. While it occasionally helped keep her grounded when she got too far ahead of herself, it was just as often just a speedbump on her way to whatever she was going to do anyway. And since what she wanted to do was learn more about Scratch and the afterlife so she could help him and other ghosts with their baggage, her optimism was going to win out over his pessimism.
“And all I’m saying,” Scratch started as he floated through the door. Molly had to readjust what she was carrying to be able to open it herself. Luckily Scratch had waited for once before continuing. “Is that just ‘cause something is interesting, doesn’t mean it’s good.”
“Psh.”
They descended the Medrano building’s darkened stairs into what was probably supposed to be a hallway just for storage. Despite the…unwelcoming location, over the past semester Molly had gotten more than familiar with the Supernatural Studies Club’s home base. Before she went in to help set up for tonight's event, she shifted the sign from under her arm again and attempted to hang it on the lone hook in the middle of the door.
“I told ya’ it was too big,” Scratch commented as he watched her struggle to get the cord on the sign’s back to latch on.
“Next you’ll be telling me I used too much glitter glue.”
“Well…”
“Scratch!” Molly gasped. “There’s no such thing as too much glitter glue! After five years you should know that.”
“Not everything needs to sparkle all the time.”
The sign caught on the latch as Molly gave Scratch the closest thing to a glare the little lady was capable of. “Well talk about this later,” she said as she turned the handle.
A beam of light shot out into the dim hallway as the door swung opened, followed quickly by the sound of brushing, typing, and interspersed electronic beeps and boops. Molly stepped and Scratch floated inside to find the clubroom transformed from the cozy, library-like room to a staging area for the night’s event. Tables, shelves, and chairs had all been stacked against the farthest wall of the oddly rectangular room, making it almost a square. Cameras and other pieces of Twilight’s equipment had been mounted around the room, some overhead on the ceiling while others sparkled with reflective glass lenses and little lights of red or green. The floor and wall-space that needed it had been covered with thick white sheets of paper, on top of which a series of patterns, runes, and other symbols had been painted in a spiraling display that left only the very center of the floor an untouched void of white.
“Hey Molly,” Dipper said, looking up from where he was kneeling at the edge of the blank spot in the middle of the floor. He was holding a paint brush in one hand, with one of Connie’s glass vials to his right while one of the red-bound books he carried everywhere sat open to his left beside his open backpack. “Watch your step.”
Molly did just that as she carefully tiptoed over the various patterns that had been painted around the room. As she did, letting the door swing closed behind her, she noticed Connie similarly painting from a glass vial on the left wall and Twilight typing away at a podium-like machine in the back corner. “Shouldn’t you have masks? I thought you said the paint had fumes?”
“Only while brewing,” Connie said without turning from what she was painting. “It’s safe now that it’s settled.”
“Or maybe she wants a repeat of what happened last time she and Dipper sniffed it.”
“Be nice, Scratch.”
“Is your ‘ghost’ being mean?” Twilight asked, the disbelief as clear in her voice as the little smirk on her face. She was normally really nice, but whenever Molly brought up or talked to Scratch she could get a bit condescending.
“You can see for yourself once tonight works out and he can’t be invisible anymore,” Molly replied.
“If tonight works out.”
“I’ve seen weird stuff like ghosts,” Dipper said before anything could escalate. “But why won’t he show himself?”
Molly crossed her arms and sighed. “The last two he showed himself to started dating and he thinks I feel left out because we used to be a trio.” Then, more to Scratch than Dipper, “Even though I keep telling him I’m good with what Andrea and Liab do together and with me still.”
“It’s more what they do do with you that bothers me,” Scratch said under his breath.
Molly just rolled her eyes. Maybe some of what she did in private with Andrea and Liab weren’t…traditional friendship activities, but it wasn’t like they just ignored her. If anything, Molly was usually right at the center of what they ended up doing. For better or worse, she guessed.
“Well, at least it sounds like he ca–”
The door burst open behind Molly, cutting Dipper off as Anne nearly fell over herself first coming in then attempting not to smear the paint near the door. “I got it!”
“Really?” Molly asked with barely restrained glee. She didn’t even mind that no one noticed her sign rattling against the door behind Anne before it swung back closed on its own again.
“Really, really,” Anne replied, digging in her bag for a moment before pulling a rolled piece of paper out and holding it out.
“Here we go…” Scratch sighed.
“Pass it to me, Molly,” Dipper said. Molly was surprised at how uninterested he seemed, not even bothering to look at Anne or the paper in her hand. But that wouldn’t darken Molly’s cloud, she was about to learn so much more about the world of ghosts and dead beyond that that everything might as well be the silver lining.
Anne took a few careful steps farther into the room, following basically the same path between runes and patterns that Molly had, before handing the scroll off to Molly. The paper’s unnatural warmth hit Molly the second it met her fingers. Not…totally uncomfortable, but definitely much hotter than any paper should be on its own. Molly looked up at Anne, who instinctively seemed to know what she was about to ask, and just shrugged her shoulders.
Holding the scroll lightly in one hand, as if not wanting that heat to infect any other part of her, Molly tiptoed around a few more symbols until she was close enough to hand it off to Dipper. He likewise gave her a look when he grabbed it, but similar to Anne just shrugged. Placing the scroll down in front of him, Dipper then set the paintbrush down to rest in the vial before flipping closed his red book. Like all of them the red leather was old, seemingly a bit burnt, and embossed with a numbered, six-fingered golden hand. Molly had asked him about that way back when the club had formed, but he said he didn’t know why the hands had an extra finger. They’d just always been that way.
Sliding the closed “Two” book into his backpack, he pulled the “One” book out and flipped it open to a marked page in one effortless motion. The one book was thinner than the others, with several ripped-out pages, but Dipper said it had the most about translating runes and other mystical languages. Plus, even if it didn’t have anything of use in it, Molly figured Dipper wouldn’t get rid of that book. Those three tomes seemed to mean a lot to him. He never talked about why, but he always kept them nearby and made sure not a single spec of food, drink, or anything else could stain its already smoke-stained pages.
“Is everyone ready?” Dipper asked, looking from each member to the next, except for Anne.
“Finishing the last of the pattern over here,” Connie noted, then nudged a backpack beside her with her foot. “Then I’ll be good to go.”
“We’re all set,” Molly added.
“Don’t speak for me,” Scratch grumbled.
“Then,” Molly said, somewhat quieter than before, “talk in a way the rest of the group can hear.”
Molly could practically hear Twilight’s eyes roll before she chimed in with, “I’m loading the last program in…now.” Her console dinged a triumphant little ding that Molly thought was just adorable. “Okay, ready to proceed.”
“I…” Anne started, glancing quickly between Dipper and the floor as she twisted her bag’s strap, “I’m all ready too.”
“Ok then,” Dipper said, not to anyone in particular as he turned the scroll over in his hands. “Here goes nothing.”
Holding the scroll out in front of him in his left hand, Dipper pinched the end of the wax seal with his other and pulled. A spark that grew into a plume of fire erupted from the scroll, briefly filling the air in front of him with sweltering, shimmering heat. The flames disappeared as quickly as they had come, leaving no evidence of their existence other than a slightly darkened room from where smoke had stained the lights above.
“Sweet baby corn,” Molly mumbled to herself.
Everyone was staring, totally taken aback by what they’d just seen. Dipper was looking at the scroll while unconsciously pulling at his collar, something he did when he was thinking or embarrassed. Anne and Connie were staring at Dipper, each startled but in very different ways. Connie was biting her lip which, with her wide eyes, made her look equal parts worried and excited. Anne, on the other hand, well her mouth was agape and her pupils little more than pinpoints. She actually seemed scared. But if she was getting any kind of cold feet she didn’t’ say anything.
“Still think there’s nothing to any of this?” Molly asked Twilight, unable to hold back her grin.
“You could probably rein in the smugness a bit, don’t cha think Mol.”
Molly ignored her ghost friend as she watched the ever-logical science major look from Dipper to her computer screen and back several times, her fingers holding unsteadily above the keyboard as if she just needed to figure out what to type in to explain what had just happened. That probably was what she was thinking. Afterall, that line of thinking had never failed her in the past, it’s what got her into Rev U. with a full ride scholarship. But it also left her pretty closeminded to certain possibilities, like ghosts and other planes of existence.
“That was…it could have been,” Twilight started and stopped for a moment, then took a deep breath to collect herself. “If the scroll and seal were coated in the correct chemicals, it’s very likely the friction from pulling them apart could have caused that…” she waved her hand out towards where the flames had been, “display.”
“Even one that big?” Connie asked. She may not have been the science genius that Twilight was, but Connie was probably the most generally knowledgeable in their little group.
Twilight’s eyes darted to the side. “It’s…possible. Once we’re done here I can run a spectrographic analy–”
“It doesn’t matter,” Dipper said, once again gripping the scroll between both hands. “We’re not here for light shows. If that’s all we’re getting out of this we’ll know soon. But for now…” He trailed off as he tightened his grip on the edge of the scroll. “For now, we just have to keep going.”
With that he pulled one edge of the scroll from the other, unraveling it until it nearly spanned from one end of his outstretched arms to the other. Scratch commented that it didn’t seem like it could have unrolled to be that big, but Molly ignored him. She was entranced by Dipper starting to work. He laid out the scroll in front of him, produced a notebook and pen, then started shifting back and forth between the scroll and his leather-bound book, his arms and eyes little more than a blur of motions as he noted something on the scroll then compared it to something in his book. All the while jotting, jotting, jotting each and every thought without ever truly looking at the notebook.
Watching him made Molly wish she’d been able to introduce him to Liab on one of his and Andrea’s visits to the campus. He and Dipper would have gotten along great, Molly just knew it. And speaking of Liab, he would have loved looking over the scroll too. Molly couldn’t make heads or tails of what was written on it, even having inched closer to the center of the room to watch Dipper, but whatever it was she was sure as sunshine that Liab would have been all over it. Andrea would have been bored, unless she had managed to get a selfie with the fire plume, but she liked seeing Liab happy, so it usually worked out.
Dipper went on working like that for a few more minutes, or maybe it was longer. In that moment, in that little room, surrounded but their little group, Molly couldn’t quite tell how much time was passing. It could have been a few minutes, it could have been an hour or two. All she knew was that when Dipper finally stopped flipping between the pages of his book and scribbling things in his notepad, he did something completely unexpected.
Shifting forward on his knees and pushing the scroll more towards the very center of the empty space, he glanced around the room as if measuring things out in his head, and then he folded the scroll at a sharp angle.
“Hey,” Anne nearly yelled. “Are you sure about that, we only have…the…one…”
She trailed off as Dipper looked up at her, his eyes narrowed. “It’s what it says to do.”
“O-ok,” she said as she began to twist the strap of her bag between her hands again. “Sorry.”
Dipper made four more folds, turning the long strip of paper into a five-pointed star. Its original ends, once several feet apart, now overlapped. And, thanks mostly to the incoherent writing that covered so much of it, the ends seemed to blend together as the star took shape. It was as pretty as it was unexpected. The only thing Molly would have added was glitter. She wondered if she still had any in her bag.
Dipper pocketed his notebook and slipped on his backpack, then gripped the vial of special paint in one hand. “Everyone in front of one of the points,” he instructed without standing himself, swishing the paintbrush around in the vial. “And bring your stuff.”
Everyone did as instructed and, once in position, Dipper started painting again. But, instead of intricate symbols and patterns like most of the room, this time he painted in large sweeping motions. Starting at a point between Molly’s feet and her tip of the star, he painted a large circle around her. A tingle went up Molly’s spine as he completed the circle, as if suddenly she was part of a force just waiting to be let loose. A similar feeling must have affected Connie, then Anne, and finally Twilight as Dipper went around the star painting circles around each of them that just barely touched each of the circles of the people on either side of them, because each let loose a similar shiver to what Molly had had.
Even Dipper must have felt the sensation as he finished painting his own circle. He didn’t shiver like the rest, but the moment he completed the design his eyes locked on the floor beneath him. Like, he had heard or felt something below it and was trying to figure out what it had been. Whatever he felt though, he seemed to push it away as he set the brush and vial off to the side before standing up. “There’s just one thing left to do, so this is the last chance for anyone to back out.”
Molly met his gaze then watched him look from each of the other club members to the next. She and Connie nodded, Anne gave a nervous smile, and Twilight shrugged as if she just couldn’t think of a good reason to say no.
With that confirmed, Dipper slid out his phone and notebook again then snapped a couple quick photos of the latter. A moment later, Molly felt her own phone vibrate as each of the other girls’ also buzzed or rang. Swiping hers open, Molly was greeted to a group text from Dipper. There was no actually text, but instead a series of photos taken of his little notebook. About half of each page was made up of scribbles that Molly couldn’t even begin to imagine the meaning of, but then there were regular old letters below the unknown symbols, just ones that when put together didn’t seem to make any kind of sensible words.
“I’ve written out the incantation as phonetically as I could,” Dipper said. “It may sound like nonsense, but the instructions are clear. We have to all say it aloud, together, for it to work.”
Molly half-expected Twilight to make a comment like, ‘If it works,’ but the fire show must have really shaken her since she remained silent while flipping through the photos.
“And one more thing,” Dipper added. “The scroll said it was important that while saying the incantation we all think of an important wish. I don’t know why, it didn’t go into it, but that’s what it says to do.”
“Wishes and nonsense words, seems like a great start,” Scratch scoffed.
“Everybody got it?” Dipper asked, of course not hearing the ghost’s roast. Another round of nods answered him. “Good, then here we go.”
Molly thought they might have needed to hold hands or light some sage or something, that was what always happened at times like these in movies, but he didn’t say anything, so Molly just looked at the incomprehensible words on her phone and thought about her wish. What was her wish anyway? To enhappify the world as much as possible was her end goal in all things, but for this club and what they were doing tonight…that didn’t seem quite right. No, the reason she was doing this was to learn more about spirits like Scratch and what was beyond the ghost realm they existed in. That was her wish tonight, to find someone or something that could help her understand ghosts and what was beyond them. If she knew about that she could work harder to enhappify the entire ghost realm.
“Vír gru webuz orh vhrefzgiru grog nabc vunif, gru pnocu iw hobcruzz grog tu zuuc gi mo,” they chanted. Molly knew she missed pronounced a few of the words but did her best to keep up the rhythm.
“Tu focu o cirgbocgb gi cobbír, gi wanwenn iab tezruz trenu noccum hiavg.”
A new feeling filled the pit of Molly’s stomach before spreading throughout every nook and cranny of her body. It wasn’t like the cold she felt before that ran up her spine as a shiver, this clung to her bones and stomach and even seemed to intensify the further along they got in the chant. A building heat that made her feel sticky and strange, but on the inside.
“Zi tegr grez pocg orh iab huchruu, zrit az trog uíruz tubu rig fuorg gi zuu!”