Archive of Our Own

The rolling waves were rhythmic in how they hit the sand, that curling noise swirling in his ear. The sun poured over them, but the cold chill of winter’s air still had bite. Deuce tugged at his coat, the fluffy, thick layers being his only shield. He glanced over.

Paces away, Ace stood. A black pea coat bundled him tightly, and he looked out over the freezing sea.

Deuce watched him for what felt like hours.

“You know.” Ace finally glanced sidelong at him. “You don’t make any sense.”

Deuce knew it was true. His eyes softened as he looked down at the sand beneath his feet. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.”

“Sorry.”

Ace rolled his eyes.

Deuce looked up.

The rolling waves were rhythmic in how they hit the sand, that curling noise swirling in his ears.

“Deuce,” Ace spoke finally. “I’m just trying to understand you. That’s all.”

“I know.” Deuce frowned. “I’m trying to understand myself, too…”

──⇌••⇋──

Deuce took his seat carefully. It was like a blip in time, from saying hello at the front door to sitting now across from the other person. He swallowed hard.

“Since this is our first session, I’m going to ask some basic questions.”

“Okay.”

“Your name is—”

“Deuce Spade.”

“And you biked here, is that right?”

“Yes.” Deuce nodded. “That’s um, my bike on the chain.”

“The form says you’re fourteen?”

“Fifteen in a week,” he admitted.

“Right.” Vil smiled. “So… I spoke with your mom. She said you want to work on your communication skills – is that right?”

“Uh, yes.”

“But.” Vil looked up. “That’s not entirely why you’re here, is it?”

Deuce blinked. He stared for a moment—Vil Schoenheit—Deuce had looked him up before coming here, it had been his teacher that recommended him, but Deuce didn’t exactly know what to expect. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean…” Vil offered a smile. “Call it a hunch, for working with teenagers for so long… The parent reports one thing, but the child wants to discuss something else usually.”

“I do want to work on communication…” Deuce took a second and his eyes drifted aside as the baby blue in his eyes seemed to become unfocused. “But. There’s… I have a friend.”

“A friend?”

“Ace.”

──⇌••⇋──

“You don’t wanna touch that.”

“Huh?” Deuce had his hand reached out for what seemed like a jar of spices. It was on a shelf above the fireplace—at least a dozen of them. “What is it?”

“A protection jar,” Ace muttered. He gave a lazy shrug. “C’mon,” he said, motioning again towards the direction of his room.

“And what’s this?”

“Don’t!” Ace’s hand latched onto Deuce’s arm. “That’s a fucking Ouija board. You don’t want to mess with those. Just, yeah, I got a bunch of weird shit at my home.”

“Oh.” Deuce pulled away from the board, looking at the archaically written letters carved into the pale wood. “Why?”

“It’s my brother’s shit.” Ace shrugged. “And before that it was my mom’s I guess.”

Deuce looked at Ace, at the vibrant orange hair, those scarlet eyes, the way he wore necklaces with leather cords and the light metal ring around his finger.

“Hm.” Vil looked up. “Tell me about him.”

“Ace Trappola,” Deuce whispered,     “The witch’s son.”

Through the small silence, Vil tilted his head.

“C’mon.” Ace tugged Deuce gently. “I got Smash on the Switch upstairs. Leave this stuff alone. It’s all boring anyway.”

──⇌••⇋──

“It sounds stupid,” Deuce explained to Vil, “I know… But. He’s. His mom was a witch.”

Vil still had his head slightly tilted. “You sound like you’re worried I won’t believe you.”

“You won’t.”

Vil kept his eyes on Deuce. “Does it matter if I believe you?”

Deuce looked at him, frowning slightly.

“There are many pagan and Wiccan faiths—”

“I’m not talking about faith!” Deuce cut in, “I’m talking about! The things he…” Eyes widening, Deuce pulled back into the chair, dipping his head lowly.

 Vil eyed Deuce for a moment.

Deuce said nothing.

Vil allowed the silence to extend.

Eventually, Deuce looked up. “Sorry…”

“It matters to you that I believe you.”

“Yes.”

“Then, I believe you.”

Deuce’s eyes widened slightly.

Vil crossed one leg over the other. “So… Ace Trappola… the witch’s son.”

Deuce could tell, if anything, there was a dot of curiosity in Vil’s eyes. He nodded.

“Tell me everything you want me to know.”

──⇌••⇋──

We met a year ago… He was trouble from the very start.

The row of lockers were across from a massive window, floor to ceiling, overlooking the outside.

But I think… I don’t know. I think I like the trouble he brings.

“Yo Deuce.” Ace bumped his shoulder against Deuce’s. Within the halls of their school there was excuse enough to be crushed like sardines together. “I got an idea.”

Deuce adjusted his backpack somewhat so Ace could get closer. Ace was close, now, so close. Deuce could smell whatever it was that Ace used, the products he must have all had figured out thanks to his older brother, and Deuce tried not to get again intoxicated by the smell of apple and pine woods. “Y-Yeah?”

“Wanna skip class?”

Deuce’s eyes widened, and then he smiled.

After school however—

“Deuce,” his mom said harshly.

Deuce swallowed hard. “I—”

But her eyes held one word. Confess.

“I’m… sorry…” Deuce’s eyes moved to the kitchen table.

Hyacinths. A bouquet of them were held together by a white ribbon.

Dilla Spade took a second to just sigh. She shook her head and cupped his face. “You were doing so well… please don’t tell me you’re sliding back to the way you used to be.” She brought her other hand and cupped his face now with two hands. “You know we can always work on this together if we need to.”

“Right…”

I guess I began to realise that… in some ways, when you make one person happy, another person can end up feeling sad. Obviously there has to be a better way, a third option, but sometimes I can’t figure it out. It feels so… fucked up…

“Ace,” Deuce said the next day at school. “I don’t want to skip anymore.”

Ace was about to bite into an apple when he raised an eyebrow and eyed Deuce. “What? Didn’t have fun when we biked down to get snacks?”

“I did!” Deuce turned to him. “I just… Mom found out, so…”

“Ah…” Ace shrugged, waving the apple around. “Well, if we skip we just gotta be smarter next time. Right?”

“Right.” Deuce’s eyes trailed down Ace’s face, to his neck. His eyes caught the leather cord that hung around Ace’s neck—a necklace of sorts. Rather than the pretty fake jewels or silvers that most of the girls in his class wore, Ace’s felt different.

Ace looked down curiously then smiled as he grabbed his necklace.

There were two coins—old, rusty coins. One silver, another bronze—or at least they would’ve been silver and bronze if they had any shine left. Deuce swore they looked a thousand years old. They were hole-punched at the top, so the leather cord could slide through, making the necklace almost look like a talisman.

“What? You like it?”

“Uh.” Deuce looked back up. “You always have the coolest stuff.”

Ace gave that smile that always shot Deuce in the heart—the grin of having his ego stroked. “Yeah?” He scoffed, as if he didn’t care about the compliment. “Well, to be fair, this one was my brothers.”

“Oh.”

“Hm.” Ace, with his one free hand, grabbed the necklace and took it off. “Here.”

“Huh? What? No!? I can’t just take—”

“Shush.” Ace put it around Deuce’s neck, holding it there for a moment. “Think of it as a payment, since you’re biking me everywhere all the time.”

Deuce frowned. “I can’t just take your necklace.”

“Why not? It looks good on you.” Ace laughed as he bit into the apple, the loud crunch ringing out. With his mouth full he said, “Plu’s—”

Deuce frowned.

Ace chewed and swallowed. “It’s got some good luck in there, y’know.” He poked the metal coins, now pressing against Deuce’s chest. “It’s got protection, after all.”

“Protection?” Deuce frowned. “From what?”

“Evil.”

Deuce opened his mouth, but paused.

“Kidding,” Ace said with no mirth. He glanced aside. “Anyway—”

“What kind of evil?”

Ace paused and looked back.

Deuce met his gaze and wouldn’t let go.

Ace had no expression as he said, “The kind that wants to hurt you.”

──⇌••⇋──

“Mom,” Deuce said excitedly. “This is my friend, Ace.”

Dilla had an exhausted look from work, but brightened up at the sound of the two of them coming in. “Oh?”

“Ah.” Ace brightened up, like a ray of sunshine.. “Thank you so much for having me, Miss Spade! Deuce is a real sweetheart to invite me over.”

They had come down from the school together, with Deuce biking normally and Ace standing on the pegs of the back wheel and standing.

“Uhuh?” Dilla offered a smile of her own. “You know, Ace is the name of the boy my son was skipping class with.”

“A-Ah!” Ace threw a hand behind his head and scratched. “I’m so sorry about that, Miss Spade,” he said with sunshine radiance, “You see, I was having an anxiety attack and I asked Deuce to—”

But her eyes held one word. Confess.

Five minutes later, Ace was in Deuce’s room shivering. “Geez, your mom’s a strong woman. Absolutely terrifying!”

Deuce blinked. “Is she? She’s just mom.”

“Nah.” Ace smiled, a more honest one, softer and smoother around the edges. “It means my average little lies won’t work, but that’s okay.” He smirked. “I’m nothing if not a Master of Tricks, right?”

Deuce frowned. “Don’t trick my mom.”

“Don’t worry, it won’t be anything bad.” Ace laughed again. “I don’t wanna be mean to her or anything… She reminds me a bit of my mom.”

Deuce felt his throat tighten. He had known Ace for a year now, though they had only started getting close a few months back. Still, he knew nothing about Ace’s parents—and, despite seeing himself as daft sometimes, Deuce had noticed Ace never once mentioning a mom before. All he knew was he didn’t know, and he had guessed she was out of the picture somehow. He opened his mouth—

“Boys,” Dilla called out as she knocked on the door. Opening it, she came with two bowls of fruits. “Something to snack on.”

Ace’s eyes widened a bit. “Thanks!”

A few hours later, Dilla was washing dishes while Deuce was drying them and putting them away. Dilla hummed for a moment. “All things considered, he seemed like a sweet boy.” She glanced over to Deuce. “He’s definitely a bit mischievous, but nice.”

“I don’t think he has a mom.”

Dilla paused.

“Sorry.” Deuce looked at her. “I just, um. I don’t want to ask, but…”

“I see…” Dilla took a deep breath. “I’m glad you’re trying to understand him… but just remember, even if he doesn’t have a mom, don’t let him push you around.”

“Oh.” Deuce nodded. “Okay.”

──⇌••⇋──

“You don’t wanna touch that.”

“Huh?” Deuce had his hand reached out for what seemed like a jar of spices. It was on a shelf above the fireplace—at least a dozen of them. “What is it?”

“A protection jar,” Ace muttered. He gave a lazy shrug. “C’mon,” he said, motioning again towards the direction of his room.

“And what’s this?”

“Don’t!” Ace’s hand latched onto Deuce’s arm. “That’s a fucking Ouija board. You don’t want to mess with those. Just, yeah, I got a bunch of weird shit at my home.”

“Oh.” Deuce pulled away from the board, looking at the archaically written letters carved into the pale wood. “Why?”

“It’s my brother’s shit.” Ace shrugged. “And before that it was my mom’s I guess.”

Deuce looked at Ace, at the vibrant orange hair, those scarlet eyes, the way he wore necklaces with leather cords and the light metal ring around his finger.

“C’mon.” Ace tugged Deuce gently. “I got Smash on the Switch upstairs. Leave this stuff alone. It’s all boring anyway.”

“Well even if it was dangerous.” Deuce tugged on his own necklace. “I’ve got a good luck charm.”

“I—” Ace stared for a second and laughed. “No, dumbass, that’s going to protect you from evil, not…” He sighed. “Well maybe that is good luck, but still. There’s a difference… even if it’s the same sometimes.”

Deuce smiled. Making Ace laugh… why did it make him feel so bright, as though the sun itself was rising in his chest.

The front door opened.

Deuce glanced that way.

“Ace,” came a voice similar to Ace’s, just a shift deeper.

“Right here!”

The man that stepped in had the same shock of orange hair, and his eyes were the same colour, but there was a heaviness to his eyes, lack of sleep stirring in there. “Oh.” He glanced to Deuce. “Hello.”

“H-Hello, Sir!”

“What.” The man blinked.

Ace laughed, “S-Sorry, he’s so dumb.”

“H-Hey…” Deuce pouted.

The man also chuckled. “Well, he doesn’t seem dumb. He’s awfully polite though. A friend of Ace’s, being polite?”

Deuce blinked. “What kind of friends does he usually have?”

Ace began with a, “Well…”

“Douchebags,” interjected the older man.

Deuce blinked. “What’s a douchebag?”

“It’s. Ugh.” Ace rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Deuce, this is Jay. Jay, Deuce.”

“Oh.” Deuce wasn’t sure what to do. He offered his hand.

“Jack Trappola, but everyone calls me Jay for short.” He walked over and took Deuce’s hand, shaking it. “Look at you, Ace.” He pulled his hand away and turned. “Got yourself a normal, honest friend.”

“Oh shut up.” Ace rolled his eyes. “He’s my big brother, and he’s annoying. Let’s go to my room.”

“Well.” Jay smirked. “You know—” His eyes drifted to Deuce, where the necklace hung around his neck. He stared at it for a split second before looking up. “Well, anyway, I’ll make dinner. You two go have fun. Do your homework, or don’t.” He shrugged. “Your problem if you have to repeat a year.”  

The two of them went to Ace’s room, and Deuce noticed more of those weird jars. Protection jars, Ace had said, and Deuce had memorised. Besides that though—

Ace’s room was perfectly normal, otherwise. Deuce could tell Ace’s clothes had been quickly thrown into the closet, with the way one of the doors jutted open, as if it couldn’t be closed fully. Deuce pretended not to notice, smiling to himself more than anything. There were posters on the walls, bands Ace had mentioned, a video game Deuce recognised but had never played, and some he didn’t even understand.

“Anyway.” Ace was on the floor by his Nintendo Switch, pulling a few games out. “I got Smash, and I got Overcooked too. Uhh…”

“What’s that? Overcooked.”

“Overcooked, it’s like a co-op game. It’s really fun.”

“That’s a cool word,” Deuce whispered. “Overcooked.”

Ace squinted slightly. “Burning food…?”

“I don’t know.” Deuce felt his cheeks heat up. Maybe he was stupid. “It just sounds cool. When you add a word to another word like that. Overcooked. It’s cool.”

“You’re such a weirdo,” Ace said with the biggest smile Deuce had ever seen. “Anyway, we can play both if you want. Smash is obviously more fighting against each other, but this one’s more working together. What do you want?”

“I wanna…” Deuce thought about it. “Let’s work together.”

Ace’s smile still didn’t fade. “Okay.”

──⇌••⇋──

“I’m afraid we’re out of time.”

Deuce had nodded at that. Vil had given them heads up that they were running out of time, but Deuce still felt disappointed when it was over. He had to wait an entire week before seeing Vil again—and he found himself excitedly biking from school for his next appointment.

“Thank you for coming again,” Vil said as he took his seat.

Deuce took a seat as well.

“So. How are you doing?”

“Good,” Deuce replied automatically.

“So…” Vil shifted in his seat to get comfortable. “Last time we were discussing your friend, Ace. We highlighted that it was important for you to tell this story, and also that you wanted me to believe it.”

Deuce felt something in him click, and he nodded.

Was that it?

Did he want to be believed? Why?

“Deuce,” Vil went on, “Tell me if I’m off track… but I’m wondering if it’s fair to say… If it was chronologically going through it, that’s something you could do on your own. But sometimes having another person can help us make sense of it… and other times, we just want to share something, have it witnessed by another person.”

“Yeah.” Deuce nodded. “I think it’s a bit of both. But um… I think it’s more like… I don’t know how to put it but… but I also just want to know if I’m going crazy or something.”

Vil tilted his head. “Crazy?”

“S-Sorry.” Deuce shook his head. “Not like, crazy, but just. Um.” His eyes tightened. “Sometimes… I think I’m friends with someone. Then I find out they don’t like me. It’s like… we don’t see things the same. Or there’s, um. Cues? That go over my head.”

“I see…” Vil’s eyes soften. “I can imagine there’s a lot of feelings of hurt there.”

Deuce felt it, like acid burning his chest from the inside. He nodded. “Yeah.” He looked down. “And I get… worried. What if… this thing with Ace, what if… I’m getting it wrong?”

“I see.” Vil nodded. “You’re worried because you’ve had experiences—experiences you’re trying to learn from—that you don’t want to repeat. Especially not with Ace.”

“Exactly.”

“So then… it sounds like we’re going to continue chronologically.” Vil tilted his head. “Would that be helpful to you?”

“I think so.”

“Alright, then let’s continue that for now, but if it helps you to break the timeline then go ahead and skip around. Do whatever you need to do.”

“Okay.” Deuce took a breath. “Thanks… So.”

──⇌••⇋──

“You fucking tricked me, Trappola!”

“H-Hey, hey!” Ace backed up against the lockers. “All I said was—”

But the boy Ace was talking to, larger, stronger, kept talking, kept shouting, “I’ll break your fucking teeth in!”

“What the fuck!?” Ace’s face soured. “Calm down, Jesus.”

But the boy brought his fist up—

And Ace’s eyes widened—

The row of lockers were across from a massive window, floor to ceiling, overlooking the outside.

“Hey!” Deuce was already running down the hall, track and field practice giving him a strong sprint.

“Yo,” one of the boy’s other friends tugged on him. “That’s Spade.”

“Yeah, and!?”

Deuce had closed the distance and used the momentum from his run to shove that boy to the floor, watching him topple over. “Back off!”

“Yo!” Ace’s head snapped to Deuce. “Chill or we’re going to get suspended!”

The other boy was getting up and his friend grabbed him to pull him back.

Deuce was seeing red and he shouted, “I’ll fucking throw you down!”

“Idiot!” Ace threw his arms around Deuce’s waist and tugged him back. “Chill!”

Despite having similar statures and sizes, Deuce knew there was no way Ace could hold him back if he wanted to hit the other boy—and he did, he wanted to hit him so bad—

But Ace’s arms were tight around him, body pressed up against him to pull him back.

Deuce felt the heat rush, change, and all he could focus was on how Ace’s body was wrapped around his.

“What’s going on!?” came a teacher’s voice.

“Nothing!” Ace cut in and shot the others a look.

Soon enough, they dispersed.

Deuce was still huffing and he followed Ace as they walked towards the stairwell, once inside their voices were a bit echoey but it still felt more private. “What was that about?”

“Um…” Ace looked back at Deuce and sighed. The stairwell was colder than the rest of the school, and it was clear the cold air was doing them both some good. “We traded cleanup duties in science class. It’s not my fault he didn’t think before he agreed to the terms…”

Deuce stared at him for a while. “You’re going to get in trouble one day, you and your I’m the Master of Tricks’.”

“Only if I get in trouble with the wrong people.”

“You did.”

“I… yeah, I did.” Ace looked away. “Um… thanks for coming to my rescue, mister knight in shining armour.”

“Why?”

“Huh?”

“Why did you trick him?”

“Because I didn’t want to clean up—”

“It’s because he was making fun of me,” Deuce cut in. “In gym class, wasn’t it?”

Ace stared at him for a moment.

“I can defend myself!”

“What are you angry at me for!?” Ace snapped, “He’s the asshole!”

“He could’ve hit you!” Deuce glared. “And you don’t even have your protection necklace!”

“That’s not. No, Deuce. It.” Ace sighed. “That’s from evil, not from some douchebag in class…” Ace’s eyes unfocused for a moment, and then he smirked. “But you know…” He met Deuce’s gaze. “I can show you something super cool, if you want.”

Deuce blinked. “Huh?”

“C’mon, after class, let’s go to my house.”

And when the bell rang—

They had come down from the school together, with Deuce biking normally and Ace standing on the pegs of the back wheel and standing.

Deuce still stared at the protection jars, as Ace shuffled around looking for something.

“Found it.” Ace licked his lips. “Jay never lets me touch this, but…”

Deuce read the title of the book. “Malleus…?”

“The Malleus Maleficarum,” Ace said as he put the book down on the table. His eyes cut up, sharply, to meet Deuce’s gaze. “The Hammer of Witches.”

Deuce’s skin prickled.

Ace opened the book, the old yellowed pages seemed equally worn and yet preserved. “With this, we bring down wickedness and selfishness.”

“Isn’t that…” Deuce pointed at the star. “The evil symbol?”

“It’s a pentagram,” Ace corrected. “The pentacle, the star, is only evil if the top part is pointing down. We use it pointing up.”

Deuce tilted his head. “Why?”

“Each point of the star represents the different elements of witchcraft—air, fire, water, earth, and spirit.” He pointed at the top of the pentagram. “Spirit must always be pointing upwards, as we offer the other four elements to its call. As long as you aren’t cocky, we’ll be fine. Spirit understands that we are young practitioners, that we make mistakes, and they will treat us with kindness so long as we hold the balance.”

“And if we turn the pentagram upside-down…?”

“Then we are offering spirit to the call of the other elements.” Ace shook his head. “There are few times its okay, but only the strongest of witches can do that.”

Deuce raised an eyebrow. “Deuce— I mean.” He shook his head. “Ace,” he corrected. “I’m Deuce—”

“I’m really showing my family secret to a complete dumbass, aren’t I?”

“Hey!”

Ace smirked and flipped the pages until he found something. “Anyway, just sit and watch. I’ll make sure that bastard gets what’s coming to him.”

“Wait.” Deuce felt a tightness in his chest. “You’re not going to… hurt him, are you?”

Ace pulled out a Swiss-army knife, pulling out the small blade. He gathered what seemed to be coloured candles and began cutting shavings into a small bowl. “Red candles give us the heat and energy for the incantation. White is pure and acts as a buffer, a filler. Green brings balance, Deuce.”

“I’m not following…”

Ace kept shaving the green. “Think of it this way. He’s the douchebag that’s popular and getting away with mocking us, right? We’re not going to give him negativity, because that’s evil, but we are going to balance the scales—because justice is fair.”

 “Okay…” Deuce felt a bit better about it. He wasn’t sure exactly how he felt, but he remembered the way that boy raised his fist towards Ace’s face. He frowned. “What else are you… adding?”

“Just some herbs. Oregano also stands for justice.”

“My mom uses that in pasta.”

Ace rolled his eyes and grabbed a smoothed rock. He began to grind the herbs and candles together. “We’re going to create an incense.”

“And this is a… witch spell?”

“We can’t cast spells,” Ace corrected. “We can only put our wishes into the universe, and incantation. A desire. If the spirits see our wish as fair, then they will respond.”

“Oh…” Deuce watched Ace continue to grind it.

“Now… we light the incense.” Ace added some wood chips and grabbed a lighter. “Burn.”

“Overburn.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Alright.” Ace let out a chuckle. “Here we go.”

And Deuce watched it catch flame, watched the solid candle shavings begin to melt in the flickering fire as the oregano began to curl up and blacken. He watched it pool together, the different elements blending into one, and he was mesmerised by the fire.  

──⇌••⇋──

“So,” Vil asked, but paused.

Deuce tilted his head.

“I’m skipping ahead,” Vil chastised himself.

“What is it?”

“Did this… ritual…” Vil looked up, curiosity dancing in his eyes. “Did it work?”

Deuce thought how to reply. “Um.”

Vil tilted his head.

“I can’t say yes,” Deuce admitted, “But I don’t think I can say no…” He took a breath. “Literally the next day, he made a post online about how his parents were divorcing.”

Vil blinked. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I see.”

“Yeah.”

“Hm…” Vil’s eyes tightened. “Can I ask you something?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“You said talking about Ace would help you,” Vil reminded. “And your mother said you wanted to work on communication… What is… or rather.” He took a second to rephrase his question. “Do you know what you want to say to him?”

“No,” Deuce whispered.

“I see.” Vil gave a moment of silence then shifted. “Well back to the… ritual. This boy’s parents divorced… do you feel… responsible?”

“Um.” Deuce offered a nervous smile. “His mom and my mom are friends… so my mom told me that, uh, his mom is apparently so much happier. They… moved cities.”

Vil blinked. “Huh…”

“Yeah…” Deuce scratched the back of his head. “I don’t really know what to make of it.”

“I see. I can imagine you might feel—”

“But ever since then,” Deuce whispered. “I have had this weird dream.”

Vil raised an eyebrow. “Dream?”

In a way, Deuce was about to change the topic—say it was stupid—

Vil’s eyes held one word. Confess.

“And we blow the fire out,” Ace had said. “Not yourself, though. The mouth is considered unclean, so we use a book to wave air.”

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Deuce whispered. “But it’s like I’m falling through this storm… and there’s fire and wind, and there’s like these… blips in time. Things change. Have you ever felt a moment where all of time has stopped?”

Vil opened his mouth, but nothing quite came out.

“It’s ridiculous.” Deuce shook his head. “That’s the problem with Ace. Whenever I’m around him I feel amazing, but I just… sometimes I have to ask myself. Am I high? Am I on drugs? I feel so messed up, you know? And we—”

Vil tilted his head. “What’s wrong, Deuce?”

“Oh we’re just.” Deuce looked at the clock in the corner of the room. “We’re out of time.”

Vil glanced at the clock and took a second to consider it. “I… don’t have any clients after you today.” He turned back to Deuce. “If you have some time, I would like to follow this thread a little longer.”

“You don’t mind… going over?”

“Sometimes we have to go over the clock.”

“Oh…” Deuce took a deep breath. “I think I’m scared.”

“You’re flirting with danger,” Vil reminded. “You have feelings for this boy, a boy who pulls you along… a good friend, after a very long time of being friendless, and he seems equally out of place in this world.”

Deuce looked up and took a breath. “I just… I’m so scared.”

Vil nodded. “It’s okay to feel scared. Whether he is a witch or not, that doesn’t matter. You found a place in this world that makes you feel safe, that lets you have fun… it comes with some trouble, though. A double-edged sword.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Deuce nodded. “I feel so happy, but I feel so scared. I feel like I want to help him, but I also want to run away, and I feel like I’m getting caught up and entangled in him… but I don’t mind. I just… I just… I want to go see him.” Deuce looked up and clasped his hands on the armrests of the chair. “I want to go see him!”

Vil blinked. “Now?”

“Yes. Now!”

“I see…” Vil seemed a bit unnerved. “I do have some concerns about you running out of the appointment—”

“I’ll be safe,” Deuce admitted.

Vil took another second and took another breath. “Do you know what you want to say to him?”

“Not yet. But I think I might figure it out if I see him.”

──⇌••⇋──

Deuce felt a little bad—Vil had allowed him to take more time than the session allowed, and now he was on his bike—racing down the hill. The wind in his hair felt good and he heard a clicking noise, like the ticking of a clock. He winced. He made his way to Ace’s home—

Ace’s home had been decently far away from everything else, and Deuce figured that made sense given his mother was a witch of all things.

When he got to Ace’s home he pressed the brakes, slowing his momentum until he stopped only a few steps short of the door.

Why am I even here? Deuce asked himself. If anything, he felt dumb for coming over unannounced. What if Ace wasn’t even home? He put his bike aside and walked to the front door. It was too late to overthink now.

As he got close, he heard the sound of loud shuffling. Still, he wanted to ring the doorbell. Unable to find the doorbell, he knocked on the door.  

From inside he heard Ace’s voice through the door, “Jay!?”

“No!” Deuce called out. “Deuce!”

With a jangle of locks, the door swung open. “Deuce!?”

“Yeah, I.” Deuce blinked a few times. “What… are you wearing?”

Ace wore a black robe with golden trim. The inner fabric was a faded blood red, which appeared wherever the robe folded over itself,mainly near the chest area. He looked down at himself. “They’re the clothes of the—” He shook his head. “Deuce, what’re you doing here?”

“Are you…” Deuce felt his cheeks flush with heat. “Wearing makeup?”

“What? No, it’s.” Ace sighed. “It’s the heart mark.” He tapped the space next to his eye. “These are the clothes of the coven, I—”

From inside there was a rattle.

Ace grit his teeth and turned around, forgetting Deuce and the open door and going inside.

Deuce waited a split second before he followed, closing the door. “Where’s your brother?”

“Out.” Ace began moving some of the books and stuff scattered on the table. “He asked me to see if something’s missing or something? I don’t know, he was all freaked out.”

“Oh…” Deuce looked around awkwardly. “Yeah, sometimes my mom gets freaked out—”

“Jay doesn’t get freaked out.”

Deuce felt his chest tighten.

Ace huffed. “He thinks something’s wrong.” He looked at Deuce. “He took the Hammer of Witches with him.”

“Well—” Deuce stared and paused. His eyes looked past Ace to the fireplace and he swallowed hard.

“What?”

“Ace… it’s cracked.”

“What is?” Ace whipped his head around. “What’s cracked?”

“That protection jar.”

Ace’s eyes fell on the only jar in the set that was cracked and his eyes widened. He looked at it for a long moment before whispering, “Get lost, Deuce.” He turned around and met his gaze. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Deuce grabbed the two coins of his necklace. “Do you want this?”

Ace crossed the distance and put his hands on the necklace, stopping Deuce from taking it off. “Keep it.”

Deuce was about to reply, but he took in Ace’s scent. There was something different about it—the tones of apples and light wood were mixed with something, like the warm smoke of a campfire. His eyes dipped to Ace’s lips, so red, so inviting.

Ace felt the shift, and his own eyes lowered.

Instinct was to move closer, cross that distance, and Deuce moved to—

His phone rang—

“M-Mom.” Deuce said as he picked up, instinctually. “N-No I finished with Vil—I’m at Ace’s.” He turned away from Ace. “I know it’s late, I know it’s a school night…”

Ace glanced over to the broken protection jar.

“No, I uh – forgot a worksheet… Well his house is close to the therapy office… Okay, I love you too, I’ll be home soon… promise!”

Ace turned back to Deuce.

Deuce hung up and sighed. “I can’t believe I lied to her…”

“Therapy?”

Deuce stiffened, spine going straight. “Y-Yeah.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Ace whispered.

“Oh… okay.” Deuce looked down at his phone, feeling that weird electric nervousness still. “I’m trying to get better… at talking to people.”

“Oh yeah,” Ace agreed, “You definitely need to work on that.”

“Hey,” Deuce said, with no malice.

Ace’s smile was warm, warm like the campfires Deuce remembered roasting marshmallows with his grandpa before he passed. “Deuce,” Ace whispered. “Go home.”

“But—”

“This is an issue for our coven.”

“Coven?” Deuce looked around, as if expecting more people in the room.

Ace looked small in the red ceremonial robes. “It used to be mom… now it’s just us.”

“Oh.”

“Hey.” Ace crossed the distance. He put his hand over Deuce’s heart. “Just go home, okay?” Deuce was about to reply, so Ace leaned in—to Deuce’s cheek, Ace pressed a small kiss.

From his toes to his head, a wave of vibration rippled up Deuce and he squeaked.

Ace smiled. “Go home, okay?”

“Mm.” Deuce’s jaw wasn’t working. “Mhm!”

──⇌••⇋──

Deuce biked his way home, and found himself laying on his bed. In the dark of his room, he heard the rain begin to hit his window. In a blip of time, Deuce was at his desk. He had no memory of moving, but it didn’t matter. He was on his laptop and opened up a browser, and wrote in the search bar—

Malleus Maleficarum.

Deuce swallowed hard and began reading. A lot of it was historical, but a lot of it struck him as fake. Someone was selling copies online that looked too simple compared to the intricate pages he had seen in Ace’s house. Likewise, plenty of reviews seemed silly, about people pretending to be hunted by wolves until they bought the product, or even one lady claiming to be a witch and using it to learn how to counter her hunters.

The more he searched, the more false leads he found—

Until one.

An old forum post from a few years ago, there was a person describing interest in witchcraft with how he had been researching them.

It was years ago, Deuce realised, but he made an account on the website and began typing a message—

“Deuce?”

Deuce looked up.

Dilla was standing at the doorway, eyes tight. “Are you okay…? You seem… stressed out. I’m worried about you.”

“I am.”

“Ah… is therapy going well?”

Deuce pulled away from his laptop to face her fully. “Um. Yeah, Vil offered to go over because we ended our session… it’s really nice talking to him.”

“I see.” She offered a smile.

“Mom…” Deuce swallowed hard. “You know how… you know how you said if a friend is trouble, I should stay away from them?”

She tensed slightly and nodded. “Yes.”

“What if… What if it’s not my friend making trouble… but my friend that’s in trouble?”

Dila considered it for a moment. “That’s different, of course. We all need friends when we’re in trouble…” She took a breath. “But… it depends on what kind of trouble. Is it trouble you’ll get mixed into?”

“Huh?”

Dilla walked over and sat on the bed, next to Deuce’s computer desk. “There’s trouble you can help with… and trouble you’ll be pulled into. Do you understand?”

Deuce bit his lip. “I mean, I think so. I know you wouldn’t want me to get dragged into something.” He unconsciously tugged the necklace. “I’m just worried.”

“I see.”

Deuce felt warm for a moment.

“I don’t think he has a mom.”

Deuce wondered how Ace felt, alone.

──⇌••⇋──

Deuce had gone to school the next day, and Ace hadn’t been there. In fact, the following day too Ace hadn’t been present. He shot him a quick text asking what was up, and Ace replied that he was skipping. When Deuce asked why, Ace texted back:

Jay hasn’t been home in three days.

Deuce was about to reply when he heard a crack.

The row of lockers were across from a massive window, floor to ceiling, overlooking the outside.

A crack ran through the entire length.

Deuce swallowed hard and grabbed his backpack. He ran. Needing to move. He found his bike outside the school and undid the lock. He pulled out his phone and hit call.

“Deuce?”

“Mom,” he spoke into his phone, it tucked between his neck and shoulder, “I’m leaving school.”

Perhaps he expected her to yell, but she just asked in a clam voice, “Why?”

“I’m worried about Ace.” He kicked the kickstand up and got on his bike. “His brother hasn’t come home in three days.”

“And? His parents?”

“I think it’s just them,” he explained as he began going down the hill. “I think Ace is all alone.”

There was a small pause.

“Send me the address to Ace’s house. I’ll excuse you from class for today… and he can stay with us for the next few days.”

It was a blip of time until he was at Ace’s door.

The brake had been harder than before, but Deuce knocked hard on the door.

Again, Ace answered in the red ceremonial robes, with a heart mark around his eye. This time, Deuce was sure, Ace had indeed been wearing makeup—not the heart, but the black eyeliner was a subtle touch.

“You can leave your brother a note if he comes back,” Deuce explained, “But you can stay with us for the next few days.”

Ace just stared.

Deuce stepped in and looked around. “Do you need any of this stuff?” He looked out at the protection jars, the candles, herbs, even the Ouija board, and back to him. “Or can you come with me? I think my mom’s gonna come pick us up.”

“I… what?”

“Grab some clothes,” Deuce said. “Books. Games.”

“You just wanna play Overcooked with me, don’t you?”

“Ace!”

“Hey.” Ace reached and tugged Deuce’s sleeve. “You’re really freaking out, aren’t you?”

Deuce said nothing.

Ace sighed. “Okay, fine. I’ll play along, okay?”

──⇌••⇋──

“Ah, thank you so much, Miss Spade!” Ace tugged the new shirt he was wearing. “I’m so lucky Deuce and I are the same size. I completely forgot to pack any pyjamas, and these are so comfy too.”

“Anytime,” Dilla said in a laugh.

Deuce had definitely seen Ace pack some pyjamas. He felt heat in his cheeks but tried to even his breathing. Ace was here, in his room, safe, would be going to school, and everything was going to be fine.

An extra mattress had been set up on the floor next to Deuce’s bed.

When Deuce’s mom left the room, Ace turned to him and smiled. “You know, I’ve never actually had a sleepover before.”

Deuce muttered, “Me neither.”

“Lighten up.” Ace looked at his clothes. “It’s a bit too early for bedtime, anyway, so—”

A noise came up from his laptop.

Deuce glanced over, seeing an email notification. He barely used email, but realised quickly what it was. He scrambled over to his laptop and clicked it.  

“Whoa,” Ace muttered.

“I was researching the Hammer of Witches.”

“Huh…?” Ace’s eyes widened. “You what!?”

“You said they’ll understand that we are inexperienced, that we make mistakes, so they’ll treat us nicely.”

“That’s for spirits not weirdos on the internet!”

“Damnit…” Deuce leaned back. “He said he wants to meet up. Tonight…”

Ace eyed Deuce. “Who…?”

“Mom won’t let us go.”

“Oh c’mon.” Ace smirked. “Did you forget? I’m the Master of Tricks.”

And in a blip of time, the two of them were biking down the hill.

In their beds, Ace had arranged pillows to look like two people sleeping in the dark. He had played an audio of very light snoring to accompany it.

But the two of them were biking down the hill—making their way into the heart of the city.

Steel pillars and neon lights, Deuce felt out of place in his school uniform through the dark streets. Ace, however, was wearing the red ceremonial robes.

Ace was checking his phone. “He said he wants to meet up behind this building. God, I hope we don’t get fucking murdered.”

Deuce biked around the building and paused. “Here’s the place… Nobody’s here. Are we too early?”

“Hm,” came a low, smooth noise.

They both looked up.

The person indeed stood strategically in the dark. In the alleyway, the orange toned streetlights did not shine on him, only a faint neon blue overhead.

Ace and Deuce stared.

The person in question shifted his body somewhat and shook his head. “I suppose perhaps that this is my fault… assuming you would be different. Meeting children at night was not my intention…”

Ace hopped off Deuce’s bike and stepped forward, robe fluttering. “I’m a Witch of the Coven of Roses.”

“A witch…” The man seemed more interested now, and turned his body towards them.

“Ace,” Deuce whispered.

Ace said nothing, but Deuce could tell it was clear he could see it too.

In the dark, the man’s silhouette had shifted. Barely visible thanks to the neon blues and purples, his outline had horns. Two horns.

“Do you…” Deuce breathed. “Do you know about the Hammer of Witches?”

“The… Malleus Maleficarum, was it? Amusing…”

“Hey,” Ace snapped, “Do you know it or not, asshole!?”

Deuce had hopped off his bike too, and moved his arm in front of Ace to calm him down. He had thought of how Ace had stopped him from fighting the boy that now had moved. So… even Ace flew off the handle too, comforting in a weird way.

“I suppose I do,” the low, smooth voice was enchanting. “You look a lot like the man that has been chasing the dark.”

Deuce blinked. “Huh?”

Ace whispered, “Jay?”

“Are you his family?”

“Yeah…” Ace looked away. “He hasn’t come home yet.”

“Hmm.” The man shifted again, stepping closer. The dark hair and horns seemed strange, but it was still difficult to make out the person’s shape entirely. “Tell me of your conjuration, Child of Man. Or… Witch, rather.” He leaned back, hand up, eyes curious even in the dark, two eyes unnatural, like green fire and reptiles, the only hint of what was to come.

“We use herbs and candles,” Ace said simply. “We gather bits and pieces of the elements and use the powers of the pentagram. We follow the Hammer of Witches, to work in communion with the Spirits, as our ancestors have for time immemorial.”

“And where is it? Your Hammer?”

“My brother had it… when he disappeared…”

The form in the dark seemed to shift at that. “So then… you seek to save your brother without the Hammer?”

“Yes.”

“And you, other boy? Are you also a Witch?”

“No.” Deuce felt both the figure’s and Ace’s eyes on him. “I’m not a witch… I just got dragged in.”

Ace’s eyes softened.

The figure tilted its head.

“But I don’t.” Deuce looked up. “I don’t want Ace to walk alone… um. I don’t want him to get hurt…”

“I see… amusing,” the figure said, unamused.

“Malleus!” came a sudden shout, “Lord Malleus!”

The figure looked back and gave a sigh, not out of annoyance though. “We don’t have long before Sebek finds us, so very well I shall cut short to the point: The Pentagram you use is balance. The Elements you describe are not as simple as you describe, but they are forces of the world that hold matter together. You work with these Spirits, as you call them, and they respond to your call.”

“So…” Deuce looked around. “Um… When you say Spirits… do you mean like, ghosts?”

“Heathens, wraiths,” the figure explained, “Demons of Maleficence.” He tilted his head. “Your power, however, is an interesting one. You work in unison with them… which I admit I have heard of but have never seen. However, I believe you have failed to take the heart of the matter into account: A crux happened many years ago, an upset.”

“You mean…” Ace’s face was unchanging. “When mom died.”

Deuce looked at him.

“Perhaps.”

“Lord Malleus!” the shouting came closer.

“The book you read is no longer right,” the figure explained. “Your coven of witches worked with an order of spirits. Both the order and coven were broken, do you understand? The ones answering your calls are not the ones who desire to work in harmony.”

Ace’s eyes widened. “So we’ve been… calling to…”

“You have not inherited your mother’s coven.” He turned and stepped away. “Your brother may be lost, Child of Man, for you are no witch.”

Ace’s shoulders deflating. “No…”

Deuce’s face twisted. “Wait!” He stepped forward. “How do we get him back!?”

Malleus paused, looking over his shoulder.

“You said he may be lost,” Deuce pointed out.

And in what seemed like a blip in time—

“Lord Malleus!” A man with green hair appeared suddenly next to him.

Malleus glanced to Ace and Deuce and then turned. “I will return with you, Sebek. Do not be alarmed.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Wait!” Deuce shouted, “Please!”

Malleus looked back at him. This “Sebek” seemed to be about to shout, but Malleus moved his hand, quieting him. He turned to Deuce. “I wish you would not consider such a path. Your power is only able to invite them in… you do not have the power to make them leave. Do not be so foolish to think you can pull the wool over their eyes. You will die attempting so.”

Deuce’s eyes widened.

──⇌••⇋──

They snuck back home in silence. Deuce was laying on his bed, watching the shape of Ace on the mattress on the floor. He stared for a while and then moved.

“Hm?” Ace looked back.

Soon, Deuce pulled his blanket over Ace’s, laying on the floor with him, Ace’s back to his chest, and he moved an arm around him. “Can’t sleep.”

“No shit,” whispered Ace. Ace leaned back into Deuce. “What’s all this…?”

Deuce pulled him even closer. “When I was a kid… I would always ask mom to hug me when I was scared, so I thought…”

“I’m not a kid.”

“I know… but when I get scared I still want mom to do it… I just don’t ask her anymore.”

“Hm…” Ace wiggled so Deuce could tuck his arm under his head. He nuzzled into it for a moment. “I guess it’s over… We can’t fool the Spirits… and it’s our fault for inviting them.”

Deuce didn’t say anything per se, but there was a stiffness that ran through him, like an electric shock.

Ace looked back, face so close to Deuce’s. “What?”

“You… and he, you’re both saying we can’t fool them… right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well…” Deuce squeezed Ace close. “If it was anyone else, maybe… but, Ace, you’re…”

“I’m?”

“The Master of Tricks, aren’t you?”

Ace turned to look into Deuce’s eyes.

Deuce met his gaze and whispered, “I’m not giving up.”

──⇌••⇋──

It had been a sleepless night—and not just because they had gone to bed late after meeting the man in the dark alley. They were both exhausted, standing in the hallway at school.

Caution tape went across from the massive window, floor to ceiling, overlooking the outside.

They both stared at it for a long time.

“It’s the same shape,” Ace muttered.

“As the…” Deuce nodded. “The crack on the protection jar.”

Ace took a deep breath.

“We just need to figure out a plan,” Deuce assured.

Ace pressed the back of his hand to Deuce’s, and soon their fingers intertwined.

At lunch, they both hungrily ate the packed lunch Deuce’s mom had made them. Soon they were sitting on a bench outside, with Ace leaning his head on Deuce’s shoulder.

“Ace.” Deuce looked at him. “Tell me about your mom.”

Ace raised his head. “Huh?”

“You’re Ace Trappola, the witch’s son.” Deuce stared at him. “So who was she?”

“The Red Witch of Hearts.” Ace pulled off of Deuce and sat up straight. His hands moved down, holding the seat of the bench as he leaned forward. “Things were so different back then. The house felt… safe. We didn’t even need protection jars or amulets.”

“So it wants the house.”

Ace looked at him.

“Sorry,” Deuce muttered. “I shouldn’t talk about stuff I don’t know.”

“No.” Ace frowned. “What do you mean?”

“If it takes your house…” Deuce shrugged. “It would take all of your witchcraft, right? Everything… and not just yours, but your mom’s. Everything she left behind. It’s trying to scare you out.”

“So…” Ace realised. “We have to take back the house—or we make it think we’re trying to take back the house.” His hands came up and he placed a fist into an open palm. “If it has Jay… then it’s probably in the house right now, since I’ve been gone.”

The bell rang.

Deuce was about to stand—

“Does it matter?” Ace asked, honestly, “If we make it to class or not?”

“Yeah.” Deuce looked at him. “It would make my mom mad. And Jay wouldn’t be happy either.”

Ace’s eyes widened. “Right…” He stood up with Deuce and looked at him. “Thanks… for making sure I’m not alone.”

“I’d be alone if you disappeared.”

“Oh that’s it then? You don’t have any other reasons to hang out with a wannabe witch?”

Deuce just stared.

“What is… or rather.” Vil took a second to rephrase his question. “Do you know what you want to say to him?”

“Sorry,” Ace cut in. He looked away.

“Huh?” Deuce blinked.

“Well your face got all scrunched up like it does when you’re mad.” Ace looked at him. “You don’t like it when I beat myself up with jokes. I can tell.”

“You… can?”

“You’re honest, Deuce.” Ace laughed. “Total opposite of me.”

“I…”

“C’mon. We’re gonna be late for class… then after class…”

“After class… we go to your place.”

“We finish this.”

──⇌••⇋──

“Listen,” Ace spoke over the roaring wind. “You sure about this?”

Deuce focused on the road as he biked down from the school. “Yeah.”

It was a cold day, dark, storm clouds high above but there wasn’t rain yet. Still, in a dark unknown to this time, Deuce continued to bike down the hill. They had come down from the school together, with Deuce biking normally and Ace standing on the pegs of the back wheel and standing.

The two of them wore casual clothes, school clothes—but as they passed a tree, red cloth unfurled from Ace and the ceremonial robes wove around him.

In another blink, bright red flushed around his eye in the shape of a heart.

“Deuce,” Ace spoke again. “We’ll only have five minutes, at most.”

“I know.” Deuce nodded. “It’s enough time.”

“No… it’ll go by in a blip.”

Deuce tightened his grip on the handlebars and took a deep breath.

“You’re really okay with this?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You’re…” Deuce smiled. “You’re really cool Ace. With all your tricks and ideas. You can do this. I trust you, you know that?”

Ace leaned down, hugging Deuce tight.

“H-Hey, I’m still trying to—”

“Sorry.” Ace pulled away.

Soon enough Deuce hit the brakes and they parked in front of Ace’s house. Deuce kicked down the kickstand and took a break.

“Deuce. Before we go in…”

Deuce looked up at Ace.

Ace stared down at him. Upside-down, he lowered his lips until they touched.

Oh.

Deuce’s eyes widened and he snapped them shut.

Oh.

It lasted only seconds, but Ace pulled back and smiled. “Ready?”

Deuce could taste smoke on his lips, and he felt breathless.

Ace hopped off the bike and began walking to the house.

Deuce got off the bike and quickly followed.

“Door’s locked,” Ace kept his voice low. “If we open it, it’ll make too much noise anyway.”

Deuce looked around. “Window?”

Ace pulled out an expired credit card and moved to the outside of the kitchen window. It had a latch from the inside, but with a swift movement he was able to unhook the latch. It wasn’t long until he opened the window and looked back. “In we go.”

Deuce took a deep breath and nodded. He went in first, hopping in and—with a quietness that even surprised Deuce—he landed in the kitchen in a squat.

Ace hopped in as well, and was about to open his mouth—

But Deuce raised a finger to his mouth.

Ace looked ahead, following Deuce’s gaze.

Jack Trappola.

Deuce’s eyes narrowed.

Jay had his back towards them, focused instead on staring at the protection jars.

Of twelve jars, eight had been broken.

They looked at each other.

Deuce stayed crouched under the kitchen table. He pulled out his phone, and Ace did the same. They both made sure they were silenced before Deuce asked Ace over text,

Let’s follow the plan.

Ace took a deep breath and nodded. From the pockets of his robes, he pulled out the mortar and pestle. Ace brought the candles and wood chips and herbs, hyacinths, and began grinding them.

Deuce pulled out a sharpie and began drawing on the floor, a pentagram with Spirit pointing upwards.

Finally, Ace looked at him.

Deuce just nodded. I’m ready, his eyes said.

And Ace looked at him with eyes that felt like lead in his veins.

Deuce had spent his whole life wanting someone to look at him like that, worried for him, like he mattered—and yet the weight of it felt crushing, uncomfortable. He thought back to the way his mom had stood at the doorway, eyes tight. “Are you okay…?” she had asked, “You seem… stressed out. I’m worried about you.”

Was this what she had felt behind closed doors?

How selfish, Deuce realised. How selfish he had been wanting to matter to people—If he could turn back time, just so Ace wouldn’t look at him like that, he would.

But he couldn’t.

So Deuce stood up.

It was time.

Deuce walked around the kitchen table not to give Ace’s position away before he approached Jay.

And Jay turned.

Deuce stared at him, those hollow eyes. Those scarlet eyes didn’t have either the feel of Jay’s usual tired look or the joy of Ace’s gaze. Hollow. “Jay?” he asked, knowing he wouldn’t get an answer.

And Ace flicked the lighter. “You want a host?”

Jay looked to the side.

Ace shouted, “Then I offer you a trade!”

Deuce took a breath, readying himself.

And from Jay’s skin a white mist seemed to pull out before it burst forward towards Deuce.

Deuce yelped, screaming as he saw the shape within the white wind.

“If we’re lucky, it’ll go just like we planned, okay?” Ace had said.

Deuce had nodded. “Yeah.”

“You’re… really okay with this? Me using you as bait?”

“Yeah.”

“I told you… I’m only going to have five minutes.”

Deuce’s eyes shot wide as he realised only too late. No—it—

The Wraith, the Spectre within the White, reached out.

“I told you… I’m only going to have five minutes,” Ace had said. “That’s five minutes to save Jay, destroy that Spirit, then save you…” Ace’s eyes softened. “It feels like it’s impossible…”

“If it’s you,” Deuce had said, “Then it’s possible.”

Deuce’s eyes shot wide as he realised only too late. No—it—

The Wraith, the Spectre within the White, reached out.

“Now why would I go for a boy like you?” Ace’s voice sounded slightly different as he stood. He tilted his head. “When I could have this one instead?”

Deuce turned quickly.

Ace was smirking.

Deuce stared at him, those hollow eyes. Those scarlet eyes didn’t have either the feel of Jay’s usual tired look or the joy of Ace’s gaze. Hollow.

Behind him—one of the protection jars exploded.

Glass flew into every corner of the room.

And a second one exploded—

“Ace—”

“Deuce,” Ace had said. “We’ll only have five minutes, at most.”

Ace’s hand moved with stiffness and he looked down at the small mortar, aflame as wood chips and candles and herbs were all mixed. With a pained face, he kicked at it—and the table soon caught fire.

Deuce had expected the entire table to catch fire immediately, but the fire was slowly making its way up the table. It seemed the Wraith had also expected the same—Deuce used that small window. Yanking the necklace of two coins off his neck—he forced it on Ace.

Ace’s hollow eyes looked down and he grit his teeth. “What!?”

And another protection jar exploded.

“My plan is pretty simple,” Ace had said. “If I can call him into your body, Deuce, we can trap him with the necklace. It won’t last long, but it should be enough so that I can—”

Deuce spun, facing Jay.

“If Jay’s been possessed, there’s almost no way to bring him back… but he’ll know my voice. He’ll come back if his baby brother calls to him.”

Deuce could feel seconds slipping by as he stared at Jay’s empty eyes. How could he speak to a soul lost? How could he communicate to someone who wouldn’t listen? He was going to run out of time, and fast, and he—

Deuce yanked something off the table.

He slammed the Ouija board down.

The final protection jar exploded.

“Jack Trappola!” Deuce called out. “Can you hear me!?”

Nothing—

Nothing.

Deuce could feel yet another half-minute slide by and he knew he was going to lose both of the brothers, now. His mind raced for a solution, and he thought of pages flipping, the light of the candle, the necklace, Ace’s smile, the sound of an apple’s crunch. “If anyone else can hear me!” Deuce shouted, “I’m begging for your help!”

He felt the heart-shaped planchette, the small wooden tool, begin to move.

Deuce’s eyes widened.

Someone or something could hear him.

 But what if he got it wrong?

“I see,” Vil had said, “You’re worried because you’ve had experiences—experiences you’re trying to learn from—that you don’t want to repeat.”

To speak with people was one challenge… but Spirits?

Deuce could feel seconds slip by—

He had no choice.

”I don’t know what I’m doing! I’m inexperienced, and I’m going to make mistakes—but please treat me with good intentions!” Deuce called out. “Can you help me!?”

It slid to Yes.

He could hear the growl in Ace’s throat as the Wraith was wrestling control.

Jay’s hollow eyes looked at him.

The table’s leg was completely aflame now.

“What do I do!?” He felt his hand ripped, yanked, and it moved. “C.” He realised. “A.” It moved again. “L.”—“Call!” It moved again. “T.—To! T. H.—The!” Again it moved. “C.” And again. “O.” His eyes widened. “Coven.” His heart beat strong. “Call to the Coven?—The Coven of Roses!? But neither of them, and the Red Witch is dead—they’re all gone! They’re all—!”

Ace slammed his Swiss-army knife into Deuce’s back.

And slowly, Jay’s eyes widened.

Deuce felt something cold move into him, and his vision began to blur. He could see Jay reaching for him, and when he blinked Jay was on the floor screaming, but it sounded so far away. His vision darkened, and he felt like he was falling.

Falling.

Swimming.

Falling.

Deuce was falling through a storm of fire and wind,

                     am i going to die?

He could hear the storm rattling, and in his eyes he felt thunder.

He could hear the screaming, the screaming of Spirits.

Deuce opened his eyes. “Please!” He threw his hand to the darkness. “Help me!”

                     My name

My name is Deuce Spade. I’m fifteen… I’m just a regular person, playing with forces I don’t understand. I have a friend, a friend caught in trouble. It’s not wrong to help him.

                     It’s not wrong to help him.

His limbs were drifting and he saw flashes, flashes of cold, flashes of horns under neon lights, the flash of hyacinths on his mother’s kitchen table.

The sight of her leaning on the doorway, the worry in her eyes.

The way Ace looked at him.

The sound of an apple being crunched.

The feel of two metal coins against his chest.

“So…” Vil shifted in his seat to get comfortable. “Last time we were discussing your friend, Ace. We highlighted that it was important for you to tell this story, and also that you wanted me to believe it.”

Deuce felt something in him click, and he nodded.

Was that it?

Did he want to be believed? Why?

“Deuce,” Vil went on, “Tell me if I’m off track… but I’m wondering if it’s fair to say… If it was chronologically going through it, that’s something you could do on your own. But sometimes having another person can help us make sense of it… and other times, we just want to share something, have it witnessed by another person.”

“Yeah.” Deuce nodded. “I think it’s a bit of both. But um… I think it’s more like… I don’t know how to put it but… but I also just want to know if I’m going crazy or something.”

Vil tilted his head. “Crazy?”

“S-Sorry.” Deuce shook his head. “Not like, crazy, but just. Um.” His eyes tightened. “Sometimes… I think I’m friends with someone. Then I find out they don’t like me. It’s like… we don’t see things the same. Or there’s, um. Cues? That go over my head.”

“I see…” Vil’s eyes soften. “I can imagine there’s a lot of feelings of hurt there.”

Deuce felt it, like acid burning his chest from the inside. He nodded. “Yeah.” He looked down. “And I get… worried. What if… this thing with Ace, what if… I’m getting it wrong?”

“I see.” Vil nodded. “You’re worried because you’ve had experiences—experiences you’re trying to learn from—that you don’t want to repeat. Especially not with Ace.”

A blip in time.

“You said talking about Ace would help you,” Vil reminded. “And your mother said you wanted to work on communication… What is… or rather.” He took a second to rephrase his question. “Do you know what you want to say to him?”

A blip in time.

“The book you read is no longer right,” had said the Malleus Maleficarum, “Your coven of witches worked with an order of spirits. Both the order and coven were broken, do you understand? The ones answering your calls are not the ones who desire to work in harmony.”

So then, Deuce realised, then there are spirits who do want to work in harmony.

“I see…” Vil seemed a bit unnerved. “I do have some concerns about you running out of the appointment—”

“I’ll be safe,” Deuce admitted.

Vil took another second and took another breath. “Do you know what you want to say to him?”

“Not yet. But I think I might figure it out if I see him.”

Deuce could see it now—like a blinding light reaching for him. He had always been told of the light at the end of the tunnel, but he knew it wasn’t that. It wasn’t something else, it wasn’t somewhere else. No, this was him. This light was his and it didn’t feel like he was going to it—it felt like he was expanding it.

The White Wraith was made of freezing mist—

The rolling waves were rhythmic in how they hit the sand, that curling noise swirling in his ears. The sun poured over them, but the cold chill of winter’s air still had bite. Deuce tugged at his coat, the fluffy, thick layers being his only shield. He glanced over.

Paces away, Ace stood. A black pea coat bundled him tightly, and he looked out over the freezing sea.

Deuce watched him for what felt like hours.

“You know.” Ace finally glanced sidelong at him. “You don’t make any sense.”

Deuce knew it was true. His eyes softened as he looked down at the sand beneath his feet. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.”

“Sorry.”

Ace rolled his eyes.

Deuce looked up.

The rolling waves were rhythmic in how they hit the sand, that curling noise swirling in his ears.

“Deuce,” Ace spoke finally. “I’m just trying to understand you. That’s all.”

“I know.” Deuce frowned. “I’m trying to understand myself, too…” He turned to Ace fully. “But I know something, Ace.”

“Hm?”

“I’ve spent my whole life… struggling.” Deuce put his hand to his chest. “And I’m trying to get better, trying to learn how to… connect with people… and understand them—have them understand me.” He grit his teeth. “If you go away now, then what the hell is that future for!? I want to learn how to be better, so I can be better for you! With you!”

Ace’s eyes widened.

“Come back to me, Ace!” Deuce shouted. “I don’t want to lose you…”

Ace took a second to look at himself, eyes widening as he remembered the Wraith. “Wait… what is this?”

“Is this… the future…?” Deuce looked down at his own hands. He seemed older, wiser. What was this, then? A hope? A wish?

“An incantation,” Ace corrected.

“Huh?”

“Deuce you’re—” Ace smiled, bright.

But the sands beneath their feet gave way.

He could feel the Swiss-army knife in his back.

Somewhere, a spider was struggling on a thread. It was crushed by a pestle, mixed with wolf teeth, hyacinths, and candles, in a mortar. A woman stirred and stirred, creating a black paste.

And Deuce felt it spread around his eye. He was screaming—screaming in Ace’s kitchen—but whether it was from the pain in his back or the burning of his eye he couldn’t tell.

Still, Deuce looked back

Ace was smiling, hollow eyes. Hovering behind him was a Wraith, its long white coat tattered and extending in all directions. It was so large, from wall to wall, that it was hard to tell where it began and where it ended. The hollow hood was the only distinction of direction. “Doesn’t matter,” came a voice that was not Ace’s, “You’re out of time.”

The clock is over.

He is mine now,

                     and you have lost, Witch.

Deuce stared in realisation.

It had been blip of time—

The protection jars were all gone—

And time had slipped away—

The game was over.

Zero.

Time.

Deuce felt his heart give out.

“Sometimes,” Vil’s words rang out, “We have to go over the—.”

Deuce—

Ace’s eyes widened.

“Overclock!”

His palm slammed into the two coins against Ace’s skin.

Red and blue were bleeding out all over them. Deuce, only then, realised he was wearing the same robe Ace had been wearing, but now the colour was deepening to a purple.

“What the…” Jay coughed as he pushed himself off the floor. “What the hell…?”

“Why!?” Ace’s mouth shouted the Wraith’s anger, “Why!?”

“I…” Deuce’s eyes softened as he watched the Wraith scream. Deuce felt it, like acid burning his chest from the inside. “It… There’s a lot of feelings of hurt there, isn’t there…?”

The Wraith stared down at him.

“In some ways,” Deuce whispered to it, “When you make one person happy, another person can end up feeling sad. Obviously there has to be a better way, a third option, but sometimes I can’t figure it out. It feels so… fucked up… But that doesn’t mean… that doesn’t mean we can’t find a way!”

The Wraith leaned down towards him.

“It’s so hard!” Deuce felt his lungs shake, and his stomach squeeze. It hurt just to breathe. “It’s so hard to understand other people… I know… I know because I’m not good at it.”

Jay’s eyes—His mother in the doorway—Malleus in the dark—Vil waiting for him.

Ace’s hand in his.

“And the thing is, every time you try it hurts because you get it wrong! But the truth is… it’s going to hurt so much more if I don’t learn! That’s why—”

Vil had asked, “Would that be helpful to you?”

“That’s why I want to try,” Deuce whispered. “That’s why I want to understand you… so please… let me.”

The Wraith stared down at him.

Ace’s eyes widened.

That ghostly white, that hollowness within the cloak.

Jay stared for a moment. “Where did it…?”

Ace breathed and collapsed.

Deuce caught him, and in that impact he closed his eyes. When he opened them again.

Jay looked around. “Where did it go?”

“Ace?” Deuce whispered. “Ace, are you in there?”

“Deuce…” Ace looked up. “You…” His eyes widened.

“What is it?”

“The mark…” He cupped Deuce’s face. “The mark of the coven…”

“What?” He felt a twinge on his eye. “Is it a heart shape?”

“No, it’s.” Ace smiled. “A spade…”

Deuce took a second to breathe. “How… how do I make it go away?—Mom’s going to be so mad—”

Ace stared for a moment, and then just smiled. “Oh Deuce…” He squeezed him tight.

Deuce smiled—but jumped when he felt Jay’s hand on his back.

“Your stab wound is gone,” Jay whispered. “The fire too.”

Deuce looked at the table, signs of the charring had licked at the underside of the table, but it was entirely without flame.

“Even the most powerful Spirits,” Jay whispered, “Not even they could do that. The size of that thing…”

Deuce looked around. “Is it gone?”

“I don’t know.”

Deuce looked down for a second.

Ace cupped his face. “What is it?”

Deuce looked at him. “He called them heathens and wraiths, Demons of Maleficence.” Deuce met Ace’s eyes. “We call them evil and angry… I don’t know, I just.” He took a breath. “There was a time when everyone said I was angry, and avoided me… I know this is, I just… Do you think we can help them?”

Ace blinked. “Huh?”

“We ask them for help… but who do they ask?”

“Well…” Ace took a deep breath. “He said our coven of witches worked with an order of spirits… Truth is, neither Jay nor I have actually  been able to talk to them. You… might be our lucky card.”

Deuce’s eyes widened. “Me? But I’m—”

Ace stroked his cheek with his thumb. “You get words wrong, and you suck at talking… but you talk from the heart, so even when you’re not using your words… it’s easy to see how kind you are.”

Deuce blinked. “I… I’m kind?”

“Oh, Deuce.” Ace pressed their foreheads together and breathed in deep. “I’m a master of tricks, but you’re the one that can’t lie. You’re so honest… I think, I think they’ll listen to you.”

Deuce took a deep breath, and nodded. “I want… I want to try.”

──⇌••⇋──

“Hello.” Vil sat across from him. “Last session, we continued going chronologically through—”

“Oh.” Deuce felt his cheeks warm. “I don’t think I need that anymore.”

Vil blinked. “Oh?”

“Um… I still have a lot of things I want to talk about, and work on.” Deuce met Vil’s eyes. “I want… to get better at talking to people.”

“So.” Vil smiled. “It seems we’re going to continue focusing on communication then?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm.” Vil crossed one leg over the other. “Can I ask how it went with Ace? Did you know what you wanted to say to him?”

“Yeah, but. I haven’t said it yet.” Deuce smiled. “It was kind of… a busy week. But now I know.”

“I see.” Vil offered a smile. “Can I ask what those words will be?”

And after the session—

Deuce noticed his bike missing from the bike rack and he looked around until he saw that orange hair.

“Oh c’mon.” Ace was leaning back on Deuce’s bike, spinning the bike lock on a finger. “I was gonna scare you, make you think it was stolen.”

“You’re the only one who could break a lock that cleanly,” Deuce pointed out as he began walking over to him.

Ace smiled. “How was therapy?”

“It was good,” Deuce admitted. “Do you want me to bike you home? Or do you want to come over?”

“Your place.” Ace smirked. “There’s still broken glass everywhere at my place. I’m tired of cleaning.”

Deuce let out a laugh. “Okay… Mom’s going to want to see you, anyway.”

“I wish my mom could’ve met you.”

Deuce’s eyes widened. “Oh.” He noticed Ace about to apologise so he cut in—“Me too. She’d worry a lot less, given how much trouble you get into.”

“Asshole.” Ace smirked. “I’m not going to give you the benefit of the doubt that was a dig.”

“Yeah. Oh—” Deuce smiled and raised his hand. He put his fist to Ace’s chest. “I almost forgot.”

“Hm? What now?”

“I love you.”

“Huh.” Ace stared. “Huh!?”

Deuce smiled. “That felt really good to say.”

“Jesus…” Ace stared. “I mean you charmed a violent Wraith, what chance do I have against you?”

Deuce smiled brightly. “I… Well I still have a lot to learn.”

“You’re a full-fledged Witch, Deuce.” Ace grinned. “I never saw anything like the incantation you did there.”

“I know, but… both of us.” Deuce leaned in. “Both of us have a lot to learn.”

“Yeah, yeah… making a new coven, finding a new order… it won’t be easy.”

“Do you think we could do it?”

“You kidding? With me scheming, of course we’ll figure it out.” Ace smiled. “Plus… I’ve got you as my secret weapon, the ace up my sleeve.”

Deuce felt his cheeks rush with heat. “Mom told me to stay out of trouble… I don’t think she expected me to date the witch’s son.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Ace smiled. “But I love you too, Deuce.”

Deuce’s eyes softened. “Really?”

“Mhm.” Ace’s eyes softened. “And saving my life had nothing to do with it—I was madly in love with you for months.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah…” Ace pressed his hand against Deuce’s heart, mirroring Deuce. “When I was lost, and angry, and pissing off my brother by skipping school… getting in trouble with the wrong kids… it was your voice that made me want to be a better person. Deuce, I… About what you said.”

Deuce’s eyes widened.

 “I think I gave up before you, but I want people to like me too. I want to understand them too.” “I want to learn how to be better, so I can be better for you. With you.” Ace’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Not gonna lie, that dream, that hope, that future… I think you caught me under your spell, Witch Boy.”

Deuce couldn’t resist the burning urge to grin from ear to ear.

“Shut up,” Ace muttered, still smiling. “Kiss me.”

Deuce leaned in, and—in a hope, an incantation—their lips met.