Chapter Text
P̴̨̧̞̺͚̹̜͇̱͈͖̭͔̥̰̀̿̔̉͗̎͜͝ͅA̸̢̢̝̱̯͓̱̓̍͆̌̃͑̍̐̚͠͝Ć̸̨͖̜̤̠͍͋͂́̍̎̈́̈́̕̕͝ͅI̵̭̤̦̗̼̯͉̤̻͇̪̿͆͆͜͜F̴̢̩̙̟̘͓̦͙̲͑̇̀̓̾͒͊̋̀̌̄͗̾̂͂̾Ỉ̵̧̯̦͙̘̘̪̙̟̞̳̭͒̈́̉̀̿͒̑̕C̶̝̹̱͙̞̻͉̠͉̹̠̍̾̊̔̌̎̈́̔̈́̈́͛͋̚̕Ä̷̳͈͚́̈̓̈̀̀͊̓̄̕ͅ
Pacifica jolts awake. She hears a terrible scream echoing through the halls of the dark, dreary prison. It’s been two days since her imprisonment by the cult of Bill Cipher. Two days spent trapped in the old county jail, held behind rusted iron bars inside a dark, mildewy cell, terrified by distant shapes and nightmarish phantasms. The residual hellmouth energy has allowed weak manifestations of the Nine Hells to perforate through the dimensional barrier around Quiet Mountains, creating horrible hallucinations that have clawed at Pacifica’s dreaming mind.
The only solace has been the annoying babbling of Trembley in the cell next to hers, imprisoned alongside Stanley Pines. And then there’s Henry. He’s in the cell opposite her own, with a sanctified holy chain around his neck. He glares at her from within the dark cell with his burning red eyes. Eyes full of hellfire and unnatural rage. She’s been woken in the night twice now to hellish screams from the poor Corduroy, and always at the witching hour, when the powers of Hell are said to be strongest. He loses control of his transformation, becoming a monstrous demon that takes all of Luthor’s power to subdue.
And what disturbs Pacifica the most is that beneath the inane babble and demonic roars, she can hear but one word repeated by Henry’s darker half. “P̴̨̢̛̤̞̼͙̦̌̂̓̄̃ͅa̵̡͈̼̒̃̅͛͐͠ç̷̤̱̙̥̦͉͕͍͚̽͂̍̆̿͗i̷̧̜̮̱͚͍͚̬̿̈́̀̀͑ͅf̶̡̼̩͓̯̮͈̫̯̲̝͇̯͙̏̏ͅi̷̢̛͚̮̞̠̘͚̒̄̃̽̇̅̃̊͌̂̒̏̕ç̶̥̤̩̳̹̙͕͛̔̒̐̾̇̈́͜a̶̛̝̥̳̲͚̻̟̞͙̦͇̺̾̍̐̌̚͜ͅ!̷͇̼̲͈̭̽̓”
He wants revenge for what’s been done to him. And chances are, Penny desires that as well. So far, the Corduroy matriarch has seen fit to leave Pacifica behind bars, left to the mercy of Luthor Malford and the phantasms of Quiet Mountains. But she suspects that will soon change. The cult of the Lady in Yellow has been gathering troops for her battle against the ruling powers, the same powers that Alcor seeks to topple.
Pacifica fears it won’t be long now. What’s worse, there has been no sign of McGucket. Two days without any word from the man with the yellow submarine. Last she heard, he was only a couple hours away, still lingering in the Susquehanna river. He should have showed up after Trembley failed to return with Pacifica and the Corduroys, which means he either doesn’t realize the danger they’re in, or he’s in danger himself.
He should have figured out that something bad has happened by now. And yet there’s been no sign of the hillbilly scientist since Pacifica left for Witchenburg with Wendy and Stanley. The Northwest heiress is slowly realizing that she’s on her own now. She needs to take back the Resurrection Codex and figure out a way to hand it over to Grandfather, the head warlock of Witchenburg.
And said book is now in the hands of the man who is set to guard her. Luthor Malford, currently the most powerful man on the east coast. He is watching Henry, who is straining at his leash as his hellish antlers extend from his head. And the only thing preventing him from breaking through the measly iron bars is the angelic collar around his neck. He howls with the fury of the damned, and Luthor, who has been reading from the Resurrection Codex for information about demonic bindings in an attempt to help Henry, is forced to enter the cell. The yellow eyed madman sets down the unholy tome before attempting to restrain Henry. Luthor allows Henry to satiate his bloodlust by mauling him. The power of the statue ensures that the injuries that should be fatal to Luthor instead simply leave him a broken and bloody wreck. As Henry’s desire for battle is satisified, Luthor crawls away from the jail cell, leaking golden icor on the ground. He collapses against the side of Henry’s cell, drained and broken, before he drifts into a sleep-like coma. He needs to regenerate his broken body.
But his exhaustion causes him to make a mistake. Luthor sets the book on the stool beside Henry’s cell, where Pacifica can grab it. She just needs a little more reach. Perhaps there's a spell there that can help her escape. Or at the very least, something that can help Henry maintain control over his newfound demonic power. Pacifica stretches out, desperate to grab the dark text as Luthor continues to take the beating meant for Pacifica. She’d be grateful if she wasn’t certain that he’s only waiting for Penny to give the order to have Pacifica killed.
Which is entirely unfair! Luthor himself allowed Pacifica to continue. It’s not her fault they weren’t willing to acknowledge what the powers of Daemonicus would do to Henry’s soul. She’s entirely blameless in all this… right? ‘I just brought him back. I did the right thing. Now Valerie will stay on our side… so why can’t I believe that?’
In spite of everything, there’s an uneasy feeling of guilt brewing in Pacifica’s stomach. And it compels her to try and fix things, even though she has no clue where to begin. But how to reach the codex?
Pacifica reaches out for the book again, but her arms are far too short to reach it across the hall. She searches for something she can use to snatch the codex. The only thing possible is an old broom, but it’s on the other side of the cell right beside the book. But then she realizes that she has the means to reach the book. She only needs to detach her leg. The leg she lost in Mason's insane plan to bring back the God of Chaos. She unhooks the mechanical construct from her stump, and she puts it through the iron bars. Luthor isn’t aware of her removed leg, which gives her an advantage over the mad dog.
She slowly brushes the heel of her robotic leg against the side of the Resurrection Codex, pulling it gently towards the edge of the stool Luthor has placed it upon. ‘Dang it, I can almost reach it!’
Pacifica pulls it down.
Along with the stool itself, which clatters loudly on the floor. She winces from the noise of metal stool clanging against cold, hard ground. She fears she may have just sealed her fate as Luthor stirs from his death-like sleep. His glowing yellow eyes stare deep into her soul. Then just as quickly as they opened, he shuts them again. He’s still too weak from his fight with Henry Corduroy. Pacifica quickly grabs the Codex before reattaching her leg.
And now to figure out how to escape. She begins scanning through the ancient text for any and all information on offensive spells, hoping to blow a hole in the wall of the jail and flee. But the spells within are far too confusing, even for her. Written in ancient text that seems to be gibberish mixed with angelic hymes, or the mad babbling of the hellborne. All the spells are merely concerned with how to spring a soul from the afterlife.
“Of course. Like this book would be any more useful.”
“Oh, I think it’s been plenty useful!” comes the voice of the old crone, Grandmother. Pacifica jolts back with a start. Which only seems to amuse the vile witch further. She belts out a hyena cackle as she emerges from the shadows in the corner of Pacifica’s cell. “Indeed it is useful! I see you managed to spring a soul from the pearly gates! Yes, those angels are rather upset about your reckless use of magic!”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“Eee, hee hee hee hee! We all have a choice! Even when the choice is risking eternal damnation! Grandfather is angry! Yes, he wants your head! The book was not to be used! But use it, you did! Damn the consequences! Now your soul belongs to Grandfather!” The old witch laughs again. And something about her laughter makes Pacifica’s blood boil. Maybe it’s the arrogance shown by the elder witch, maybe it’s the constant judgement of Pacifica’s decisions, or maybe she’s just tired of being mocked by stupid, power-hungry bastards. But the Northwest glares daggers at the old witch, her eyebrows bent down like fangs upon her scowling face. She reattaches her leg, then slowly stands to meet the old witch eye to eye.
“That’s not the deal we made.”
“Huh?”
“The deal was made that Penny would never use the book to bring Henry back. I used the book. I broke into Heaven and ripped Henry’s screaming soul back from the land of the dead. And I’d do it all over again.” The old witch is stunned into silence. Pacifica stands proud before her, not caring in the slightest for the old hag’s judgemental gaze. But then that eerie grin returns, and she laughs all the while.
“Indeed, indeed! That was the deal you brokered with my silly little husband! And I didn’t even realize it! You tricked both of us! Why, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you had the soul of a proper demon!”
Pacifica narrows her eyes. “What do you want?”
“Merely the book that was taken from its rightful spot in the library. After that, I will be on my merry way!”
“I need it.” Pacifica holds the book tightly to her chest. She’s not going to let this old bat take it back. She’s prepared to summon up her hellish imp servants and go for a good old round of blood magic. She braces for battle, expectant and ready for anything… anything except the change in the cooky old witch’s countenance. Her smile drops, becoming a cold, dead stare. And with the flourish of her wrist, Grandmother begins to summon up a spell of her own making. Pacifica braces for impact, expecting a flashy, powerful attack. But nothing happens.
At first, it appears that Grandmother’s spell is a bust. Pacifica smirks at the old crone. “Performance issues? There’s a pill for that.”
But Grandmother doesn’t respond to her taunting. She simply steps back, allowing the subtle movement of her spell to slowly take form. And Pacifica realizes what has happened as the shadows on the floor begin to grow in length, slowly stretching out like a wispy, shadowy hand. Reaching out for her, desiring to pull her into the darkness forever. Pacifica desperately tries to figure out a way to escape with the book in hand, but she’s cornered against the walls of her cell, trapped on all sides by terrible stretching shadows. Pacifica gulps as one of the tentacles wraps around her cyborg leg. She tries to fight it, but the tendril is crushing the mechanical leg in its death grip. She realizes that she has no choice.
“Fine. Take it.”
“See! I knew I could convince you!” The old witch’s cheery demeanor has returned. She laughs her devilish laugh as Pacifica tosses her the Resurrection Codex. The shadows retreat to the corners of the jail, and the Grandmother takes back her husband’s precious book. But she turns to face Pacifica one last time before she disappears into the night. “There is an air of darkness around you, Northwest. You are far closer to the nightmare than you could possibly know. His mark is already upon you.”
“What does that mean?” Pacifica asks. The witch merely laughs, but it’s not her typical laugh. This one is darker, more sinister, a low gurgling cackle bubbling up from the depths of Hell. Pacifica glares at the old mad lady, and gets ready to tackle her. But the moment Pacifica blinks, the Grandmother disappears.
Leaving Pacifica alone with her failure. She slinks down the wall to the cold, hard floor. She made the right choice in bringing Henry back, right?... then why does it still feel like she’s made a horrible mistake? She lets out a tired sigh. She’s far too exhausted to think about this right now. Maybe she’ll feel better tomorrow. She closes her eyes, and begins to return to her unquiet dreams. But not before Luthor emerges from his coma. “Sorry, I zoned out for a second there… wait, where's the book?”