6.10
“We should try and stay calm -”
“I’m very calm!”
“You don’t sound calm,” Landis says, sinking into the couch. His head feels like it’s buzzing, muffling everything else around him, forming a blanket of white noise between him and the rest of the world. It’s a miracle he managed to drive home like this. He watches, not fully processing, as Otter takes a fifth lap around the apartment, pacing through the kitchen to the hall and back to the living room.
“I think I have a right to be panicked,” Otter says, his voice high and tense. Free of the car after the half-hour trip back from the lake, he’s a bullet of energy ricocheting through the house, a pinball shot out onto the board. “Austin’s fucking - fucking who knows where, and he could have died, and -”
“We know where he is,” Landis says, his voice sounding distant, even to him. He takes his shoes off, and curls his legs up underneath of him on the couch. “In Hell.”
He expects a snappy retort - from another member of Paper Museum, if not Otter - but gets none. The ghosts, save Richard, all ran off somewhere before Landis and Otter came home, perhaps sensing the catastrophe that was going to come blowing through the door. The apartment feels too quiet without them. Richard hovers in the corner of the living room, above the television, contributing little to the conversation.
Maybe I’m so calm because I’m in shock, Landis thinks. I did almost die back there.
He bites down on his bottom lip, hoping the pain will bring him back to himself and clear the fog in his head. It works, at least a little. He knows what the next thing he has to say is, but he doesn’t want to suggest it - he can taste the words forming in his mouth, but can already predict the response.
“We could rescue him,” he says tentatively.
“No,” Richard says, “absolutely not. Do you even know how dangerous -”
“How?” Otter asks, blissfully unaware that he’s interrupting.
Good question. Landis tunes out again, staring at the blank television screen, picking idly at a hangnail. There’s got to be a way of dragging Austin back, or getting to Hell to grab him and go. But Austin’s the demon expert, not me. Otter doesn’t know anything about that stuff. Richard might know, but won’t help, and it’s too late to dig around in the library. I guess there’s the witches, but they seemed inexperienced, and I don’t trust them as far as I could throw them. The only other person who could possibly know anything about this occult bullshit is -
He shoots up from the couch, barely conscious of his own decision to act. Otter takes a step backwards, startled, and even Richard jumps a little.
“We’ve gotta go,” Landis says, heading for the door without even bothering to put his shoes back on. Otter follows at his heels, hovering in concern.
“Go where? Landis, you shouldn’t - you almost - are you sure you should be running around like this?”
“It’s just upstairs,” Landis explains, not really explaining anything at all, but already halfway to the stairwell.
He climbs the stairs faster than he should, ignoring both Otter’s sputtered protests and the uncomfortable tightness in his windpipe, spacing out and letting his body go on autopilot until he comes to and finds himself standing in front of an unfortunately familiar door. He lifts his hand, slowly, and knocks, trying to think of something to say.
“Please tell me you didn’t just knock on a stranger’s door,” Otter says from behind him. Landis shakes his head.
“It’s Walker’s apartment.”
“Oh, him,” Otter says derisively, just in time for Walker to open the apartment door and glare at the two of them.
“What,” Walker grunts. He looks like maybe the knock on the door woke him - he’s in a ratty tank top several sizes too big for him, plus flannel pajama pants, and his hair is tied back in a little ponytail. Behind the lenses of his glasses, his eyes have dark circles underneath of them.
Landis swallows. What do I tell him? What worked last time, with the mine shaft? I can’t really pull the “I know you’re Austin’s bodyguard” card twice, because it won’t be a fucking surprise the second time around.
“Austin’s in trouble,” his mouth says for him, before he can even consider it anymore. “He made a contract with a demon, and now he’s in Hell.”
Walker blinks at Landis and Otter for a moment, silently, and then starts to laugh.
“Okay,” he says, once he’s calmed down a little, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. “You really got me for a second, there, but there’s no fucking way Austin’s stupid enough to summon a demon. He sent you up here to scare me, right? Or Jacob set up a drill or something?”
Walker’s eyes search Landis and Otter’s faces, but he doesn’t seem to find whatever he’s looking for there. His expression turns desperate - Landis can see him still scrambling to figure out what the joke is - and then dark.
“So,” Walker says sullenly, “you want me to clean up a mess Austin got his own idiot self into.”
“You have to help us,” Otter insists, stepping up next to Landis. “You’re supposed to be Austin’s bodyguard, right?”
“More or less.” Walker drags his hands down his face and groans. “Look, do you even know what he made a contract for?”
“Richard - his dad - said he got buried under some rocks in the mine shaft, and the demon offered to save his life,” Landis says.
“Which wouldn’t have happened at all if you’d been, you know, doing your job,” Otter adds.
“Yeah. I’m bad at my job. We got that part.” Walker rolls his eyes, leaning against the doorframe and folding his arms over his chest. “How do you know Austin’s in Hell? If he didn’t die, shouldn’t he be, like, around here?”
“The demon’s end of the bargain was that Austin had to go to Hell with him,” Landis says. There’s a sudden, small pain in his finger, and he looks down to see a line of torn, bleeding skin where his hangnail once was. He must have been picking at it without even realizing it. Almost unconsciously, he pops the bleeding finger into his mouth.
“Richard doesn’t trust that the demon is actually going to return Austin, like he said he would,” Otter continues, giving Landis a concerned look out of the corner of his eye. “On account of demons being evil tricksters and all.”
Walker snorts. “Yeah, humans don’t exactly have the best track record with them.”
“I thought maybe you could help us, uh, deal with it,” Landis mumbles around his finger.
“Well, I don’t know jack about demons.” Walker shrugs. “You’d probably be better off summoning one and asking them for help.”
There’s an ensuing silence, during which Landis and Otter make eye contact, each clearly trying to gauge if the other is thinking the same thing, and Walker’s face drains of all color.
“Oh, no -” Walker says, strained. “Don’t -”
“Richard’s not going to like this,” Landis says to Otter.
Otter grins. “He’s just a ghost. Nothing he can do about it.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m legally allowed to put you in custody if you do what you’re about to do,” Walker points out, but doesn’t move from the doorway. Otter raises an eyebrow at him.
“You want to save Austin too, right? You might as well work with us.”
“I’ll bet Jacob would hate it,” Landis says, which must be the magic combination of words, because Walker’s face splits into a grin.
“One sec,” he says, taking a step back into the apartment. “Let me get my phone, I know a couple agents who’ve done this before. I’ll meet you downstairs in five.”
He slams the door in their faces. Landis and Otter share another look. Bizarrely, Otter is smiling - it’s hard to tell if it’s genuine excitement, or just wild hysteria. Maybe a mixture of both. Landis wonders what his own face is doing. He can’t particularly feel it.
“Go and clear off the kitchen floor,” Otter says, and starts digging around in his pocket for something. “We should do it in there - the tiles’ll wash off, and I don’t want to stain the carpet. Let Walker in when he comes down. I should be back in fifteen, twenty minutes, tops.”
“Where are you going?” Landis asks, more out of rote than a real desire to know. He has a feeling he shouldn’t have asked.
Otter’s grin widens a little, and he holds up his car keys, dangling from one finger. “The pet store.”