The Haunted Birthday

Moonlight sparkled through the glass panes of Acheron and Nell’s bedroom. For once Nell and Ach had enjoyed a night of peace and quiet. It was Nell’s birthday, and so the other parents had ensured they got a full night’s rest. They had tucked the children in before bed, and the ones sneaking out were being monitored by the other parents. It was, for lack of a better analogy, the eye of the storm. The storm — the hundreds of children that occupied Nell’s life (not all his, but more than he had ever expected) — were the storm, and this precious moment with Ach in his arms was absolute stillness.

Except, Ach was rigid.

Nell turned to look at him, with his curly mop of blonde hair and his soft blush lips.

“I am a robot,” Ach said in a robot-like voice.

Nell studied him. “What?”

For once, Ach’s mind was silent.

“I woke up and now I am a robot,” Ach said in a robotic-voice.

Nell brushed his hair out of his eyes. His skin was warm, his heart thundering in his chest. “You are definitely biological.”

“Android, then,” he said in a semi-less robotic voice.

“Ach.” Nell kissed him.

Ach groaned beneath Nell’s lips. “How did you know?”

Nell laughed and kissed him. “Because I know you.”

“I didn’t blush,” Ach argued. He wasn’t wrong — his cheeks gave all his lies away — but that didn’t make him an android.

“Did you take an anti-blushing potion?” Nell asked him, teasing.

Ach blushed.

Nell kissed each of his pink cheeks. “No, then.”

“I did but it was only good for one lie.”

There was a large crashing sound. This time, the tomfoolery wasn’t Acheron. Someone else had done something.

Or perhaps something was happening. Nell reached out his mind and heard nothing but fear. He leapt to his feet, pulled pants on, and grabbed his sword. He didn’t need a shirt and the ties to secure it to him, laced around his wings, wouldn’t be time convenient.

“Stay here,” Nell told Ach.

Ach got a dagger from his bedside table and moved toward the door, pants on. He coiled his translucent-pink wings against his back and slipped a regular shirt on. “No way.”

Nell took a deep breath. He didn’t want to go with Ach, because he wanted to protect Ach, but on the other side of things Ach was the best at swords, significantly better than Nell.

Together, they left the bedroom for the main area.

Screams came down the hall. Avis, their daughter, came running toward them. “Help!!!!!”

“Avis?” Ach crouched and caught her in his wing, the dagger still in hand. “What’s—” 

“Help!” Avis said, cutting him off. She looked back down the hall. “Help!”

Ach moved Avis behind him, shielded by his wings (as much as  semi-translucence could.)

“Get in our room,” Nell said to Avis.

Her breath was still heavy, the fear painted across her every movement. She clung to Ach’s leg and shook her head no.

“Avis, run!” Ach yelled quietly.

“I can’t run,” she argued.

“Take her back in,” Nell suggested. “I’ll keep going.” You’ll be safer.

“Yes you can,” Ach assured Avis. “You’re a robot.”

Avis took a deep breath and extricated herself from Ach. She took staggering breaths and made her way to their room where she slipped inside. The door clicked locked.

They continued down the hall, the way Avis had been afraid of. More bangs clattered in the distance. A squeal filled the air. The minds they could reach were riddled with fear and anxiety but the monster or perpetrator was hidden from them.

They came to a corner. As Nell rounded it, their daughter Cressida slammed into them. She righted herself, her chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. She pulled them around the corner and stepped up to her tippy toes. “There’s a. There’s a. It’s.” Her voice was choppy through her breaths. “It’s a boogly bear monster van!”

Ach stepped back. “That would be your department.”

Nell stepped forward. It was better if Ach stayed behind and protected the children. Before they left, he searched Cressida’s mind to see what sort of monster might be lurking ahead.

Her mind was darkness.

“It’s too dark to know what they saw,” Nell concluded aloud.

“I can assist you!” Cressida reached for Nell’s sword. “But it’s really big and really scary.”

“Go in the room with Avis,” Ach instructed.

Cressida mentally protested, ready to help, unafraid. Acheron groaned. “Stay behind me.” He walked toward something in the hall. Again, no thoughts came Nell’s way. Was this the beast?

Nell edged closer, ensuring Cressida stayed far enough behind them she could be removed before something happened. The object was still. A lake surrounded it. Nell crouched down, a ball of fire in his hand to light enough space to see well. There, lying on the floor, was their daughter Corbyn. Where were their sons?

A shiver ran through Nell’s body and begged him to walk away. No beast had ever made him so afraid except the human-like ones, the ones whose souls were irrevocably broken.

And now their daughter was dead. She would be revived, but tears bit at Nell’s eyes.

He straightened, more determined. Wherever this beast was, it had their sons.

“She’s gone,” Nell told Ach as he stood. He walked, sword ready, more determined to defend his family. At last, he called for help from others in the area.

He moved stealthily down the rest of the hall. Ach’s heart shattered, his mind broken by the sight of his daughter. Nell moved faster, hoping to put distance between them so his own grief could live deep inside an emotional well he would eventually revisit, but not now. Not while others were in danger.

The floor sparkled.

Nell blinked, but he wasn’t seeing things. He knelt beside the sparkles and felt it, curious if it was slime or something else. He’d never, not in all of his near one-thousand years seen something like this.

“We can bring Corbyn back, right?” Acheron asked from beside him.

Nell put his hand on Ach’s shoulder. “We will bring her back. We will stop this then heal our children.” and then we will heal ourselves.

“Is it a slug?” Ach asked, his mind as focused as it would get until he faced whatever it was. “It reeks. Acrid.”

Nell took a long sniff of the air. It smelled of rotted flesh and old food. He recoiled away, though the air was everywhere and so came the stench with his movement.

“Dads.” Their redheaded son, Faust — a son at last — spread his arms, laced in the cape he always wore, and large bronze wings with aqua tips splayed across a door. His red hair shook with his head. “Don’t go in there. It’s too late for them.”

“Help!” Another of their sons, Taz, screamed. His mind was full of terror. “It’s going to eat me! Help!”

Faust’s face went pale, all the life drained from him. “I had to shut the door. He didn’t get out fast enough.”

“Let us through.” Nell readied his sword with his right arm and tried to brush Faust aside with his left.

“No! It isn’t safe!” Faust exclaimed.

Nell focused on Faust intently. “Stay back. I will save Taz.”

“Nell.” Ach’s eyes were pools of tears.

Nell leaned closer to him and kissed him one last time. “I must.”

Ach broke into a full cry, his kiss slobbery with goodbye.

“Dad,” Faust argued. “Please. If you go in there…I don’t know what will happen…”

Nell pushed him aside. This time he didn’t protest. He opened the door a crack wide and slipped into the room. He moved to slam the door but the lights burst on and a gust blew the door open.

“Happy Birthday!” VJ — one of the other dads — exclaimed.

A chorus of people blew air through tubes that made high squealing sounds, and confetti blew through the air.

Ach screamed, the highest pitch Nell had ever heard. His body burst into flames.

Nell blinked. There was no monster, there was a surprise. A monster of emotion, so to speak. He pulled Ach into his arms. “Ach. It’s okay. Breathe.”

“So we got Ach,” Niels gloated. “Did we get you?”

“Never,” Nell lied.

At least he wouldn’t need to change his pants, though it had come close.

“Happy birthday.” Niels blew his loud party toy again as he sauntered off into the crowd of family.

“Midnight party?” VJ asked. He clicked a button on a handheld remote and a disco ball began spinning.

Behind them, Avis, Cressida, Corbyn (alive), and Faust entered the room. Except Corbyn had her hands outstretched, blood dripping from her cheek. She groaned as she stepped, her legs stiff.

Ach didn’t care. He saw past her act this time (it was less believable than the death-act). He pulled her into a hug, sobbing. He glowered at Niels in between sobs to Corbyn.

Corbyn laughed. “Did we get you? I was really still.”

“How did you still your heart?” Nell asked, his arm around her back.

Corbyn grinned. “Uncle VJ made me a spell! Wasn’t it neat?”

“Very,” Nell said dryly. It was his turn to glare at VJ, though he was impressed.

:”You have birthdays too, you know,” Ach threatened.

“Not near Halloween,” VJ replied.

“We can’t all be perfect.” Ach walked all the way into the room, Corbyn still nestled beneath his arm.

It was a very haunted birthday. The most epic. Something done right, but likely not repeatable (Nell would be suspicious in the future). For the time, he enjoyed the merriment, the coming together of so many different cogs in the complex post-spell machine.