Chapter Text
We’ve been walking for Lord knows how long now and the farther we go, the darker it gets. It can’t be that late, can it? What time did I leave home again? I’m certain it was light out when I said goodbye to my sister.
I tilt my head up to get another look at the stranger. Doctor Newton. An odd moniker to pick out for oneself. He’s not a real doctor, that much I am certain of. He’s a… magician of sorts.
That’s a safe word, right? Magician. A charlatan, as my sister would call him. People like that are only ever looking to line their pockets by reading a few cards and pretending to know everything about your life, she’d probably say. Good Lord, Monty, what have you gotten yourself into now?
I wish I knew, is the only reply I have.
But there’s no harm in traveling with a beautiful stranger and getting scammed out of money I don’t have, so I don’t pay it much mind.
“I can feel you staring at me, you know.” He hums suddenly, the smirk on his face growing. “If you have a question all you have to do is ask.”
“You picked me up off the street with nothing but your shadow. Of course I have questions.”
He laughs and sticks his arm out in front of me. I bump into it, stopping in my tracks. “Well, we’re here. Ask away.” He nods to the house on our right with his cane, a grin on his face. I glance up at the sign on the door and swallow hard.
Doctor Newton’s Voodoo Emporium.
Voodoo was a word you couldn’t go too far in these parts without hearing. Just the thought of it brought to mind images of creepy masks, demonic chanting, and zombies clawing their way out from the soil. All the things that parents warn their children about, stories about angry witches hexing men who turned them down, cursed jewels, and… shadows.
As if on cue, the Doctor’s shadow does a little wave to me before slinking off to the door which opens—seemingly on its own—with a whoosh. I glance back at the Doctor himself. He still has that warm glow, like when he was young someone fed him a little piece of the sun and it hasn’t gone away since. I can’t place him in any of the images in my head.
“Are you coming inside or are you just going to keep staring?”
I blink, processing what he just said. “Uh, coming inside.”
He chuckles and offers me a hand, twirling his cane in the other, and pulls me inside.
The first thing I notice is the smell. A culmination of cloves, mint, and several other somethings that tickle and prick my nose and mouth-- things I have no doubt I’ve never even heard of. The second thing I notice, once I’m able to pick my eyes up from off the floor, is how it’s nothing at all like I would’ve guessed.
There are masks that line the wall and more that lay clattered on a counter, but they don’t look like they intend to swallow me whole. Beyond that there are shelves of books and dusty notepads and jars with handwritten labels scrawled out on the sides. The entire place seems to pulse with a hollow drumbeat, every creak of the floorboard matched with a thrumming in the walls and, oddly enough, a kick in my heart as soon as I am reminded that my hand is still in the Doctor’s.
I quickly slip it out, obviously too quickly because he tilts his head and fixes me with a questioning gaze.
“Fine!” I find myself squeaking, rubbing my hand against my jacket. “I’m fine.” The hint of a frown might graze his lips but I can’t be sure because I’m more concerned with how my voice bounces around the room, pulsing through the walls and floor like the drum.
“That’s an echo, sir, just something we have here in this part of Louisiana.” The Doctor looks over at me and raises an eyebrow, and I realize that I’m staring. He must think I’m scared. I probably should be, but it’s really that I can’t tear my eyes away from how that easy smile tugs at his cheeks. “A little parlor trick, don’t worry.”
“You’re certainly dramatic.” I scoff, pleased to find that my voice has returned to its natural octave.
He laughs. “Comes with the territory. What good is the power to change the future without a little theatre?”
I blink. “Change the future?”
That smile grows into a grin and he taps his nose before gesturing to a stool with a stack of clothes on top of it that I swear wasn’t there before. “First. There’s a room on your right where you can get cleaned up. Then, you can join me at my table and we can talk more about the future.”
--
Until this moment, the most humiliating part of my day was being pushed into a pile of shit followed closely by being rejected for one of the first times in one of the most painful ways. But emerging from what cannot be called a room-- I would be careful calling it a closet-- in a borrowed shirt that reaches my knees just might top that.
“I’m here.” I march over to where the Doctor is sitting and take the chair opposite from him. And if I slam the chair on the ground a little when I push it back, then it’s nobody’s business but mine.
“Ah,” the Doctor says simply, very noticeably trying to stifle a laugh. “I apologize, I didn’t account for your…size?”
“Very funny.” I deadpan. “Can we get to business now?”
“Of course.” He leans back in his chair with his eyebrows raised, legs stretched out and twiddling on the table one on top of the other. He picks some cards from off the table and thumbs through them. “Monty. That’s your name, right?”
“How did you--”
He fixes me with an amused gaze. “Usually I’d like to say it’s just part of my power, but I’ll be honest with you. The whole street heard you and Miss le Brey and your, ah, altercation.”
“What-”
He keeps talking. “So, you wanna marry Jeanne Le Brey.” I swear I can hear someone laughing but his lips are sealed.
I straighten my back despite myself. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
He looks me up and down. “With what? A bouquet of roses?” He cuts me off before I can even open my mouth, twirling the cards in his palm. “Don’t look so sour, it’s nothing personal.”
“Oh, really, it isn’t?”
“Not at all.” A smug smile plays at his lips. “Believe me, you’re very pretty. I have no doubts you could fix yourself up with just about any girl you wanted.”
“Any girl except Jeanne, you mean.”
“Now, that’s not--”
“Did you just bring me here to mock me!” I stand up, knocking over my chair in the process. “You said you could change my future!”
“I can!” He stands up too. “I mean, I can’t make her technically fall in love with you, but--”
“You can’t or you won’t? ” I don’t even give him a chance to answer, instead turning to the shelves surrounding us and scanning through them for something-- anything. I came this far. If the whole street heard about me and Jeanne the news would have made its way to my father by now. I can’t go back. Not without a solution.
I can hear the Doctor trying to get me to stop, picking up the books and notepads I’ve dropped and putting them back in their places but what may be screams are just whispers to me because all I can hear is my father’s ultimatum and Jeanne’s voice in my head.
And then, I see it. A jar, seemingly empty, with a slightly smudged label. I grab it, clutching it tightly to my chest before facing the Doctor.
“This. This says it can bring me my heart’s deepest desire. How do I use it?”
“That’s not what you think it is, just put it down.”
“How do I use it?”
“Monty. Put it down.” He approaches me cautiously, reaching to the side for something and before he can grab it out of my arms I quickly twist open the lid.
All the air in the room seems to funnel into the jar before exploding in my face, a frigid gust with blinding light. And all I hear is piercing laughter worming its way into my ears before it all goes white.
--
I wake up to my head throbbing and a hazy mess that I recognize to be the Doctor staring down at me. Hold on-- when had he gotten so tall?
“What… just happened?”
He levels me with a glare. “You opened the jar. A jar which contains a spirit. And not just any spirit! A trickster spirit that enjoys manipulating humans for fun.”
I just blink.
“Monty, what were you thinking?”
“How am I supposed to answer that when I don’t even remember what happened?” When he doesn’t reply, I continue. “Evidently, I’m fine, which-- in my opinion-- is the most important thing. On a side note, I know this is your shirt but it’s a lot bigger than I remember it.”
The Doctor winces and rubs the back of his neck with his hand. “See, about that, when you opened the jar the trickster spirit did, um, end up… playing a trick on you.”
“What?”
“Let’s just say, you are no longer yourself. You’re just a bit more… green? And, um, amphibious?”
“So, what you’re saying is—”
“You’re a frog. Yes.”