Archive of Our Own

 Crystal’s day had been going well. Then she had to team up with Edwin.

 Look. They were definitely friends, and pretty close friends at that. They had each other’s backs, no questions asked, and after their rocky start in Port Townsend, they’d grown to rely on each other and confide in each other, especially after Niko-

 It was a bit like a gaping, festering wound none of them would acknowledge. There should’ve been four and there was only three.

 That meant that if Charles had his own mission to do- specifically, some lockpicking in a church somewhere- it would always be Edwin and her left behind to work a case together. God, she wished Edwin could go into churches. Then he could’ve gone with Charles and saved her the hassle of trying to walk around a botanical garden with her. 

 But nooo. Supernatural laws were pure bullshit and since Edwin was ‘from Hell’, he couldn’t step on holy ground. He was annoying as Hell, definitely, but being permanently classified as infernal because of a prank was pure stupidity.

 Edwin kept up a running commentary as they walked;

 ‘Apparently, these two warlocks have been at each other’s throats for the past century or so. Instead of just duelling and being done with it, however, they seem content to spend their quasi-immortal lives in a constant state of offence and defence. Our case, to retrieve a stolen journal, is just the latest petty crime in a long chain of exceptionally petty warlock fights.’

 Crystal rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah, I know. You told me all this back in the office. Twice.’

 ‘It never hurts to be prepared.’

 ‘So you keep saying- Anyway, what was the address again?’

 Instead of answering, Edwin just handed her the ransom note. In true melodrama fashion, the warlock had gone for cut-out newspaper letters- then probably got bored of doing that, since the second half of the letter was handwritten. It read;

 ‘IF YOU WISH TO SEE YOUR JOURNAL AGAIN, DELIVER ONE SOLID KILO OF GOLD TO the botanic garden beside your house at sunset, september fourth.’

 Crystal wondered out loud. ‘What was the point of trying to disguise his handwriting if it’s that fucking obvious who stole the journal? These guys have way too much time on their hands.’

 ‘Warlocks dearly love their theatrics.’ Edwin said wearily. ‘If they paid us in dramatic sighs, we’d be millionaires by the end of a single case.’

 The back of the note, also in regular handwriting, contained some extra instructions. Go to the oldest greenhouse, dig up a box, open said box, take the journal out, and leave the gold behind. Edwin’s theory was it was something alchemical. Crystal’s theory was that he just wanted a really over the top necklace.

 As dumb as the case was, at least the warlock was offering their own gold for the swap, and also promising Edwin a spellbook as payment.

 Spellbooks were rare, and even with help from that place in Soho that was never fucking open when she went to look at it, finding them was nearly impossible. So it was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

 Hey, she said she found the guy annoying, not that she wouldn’t help him build up his home library.

 If he was reading, he wasn’t bothering her. Simple as.

 Charles always gave her a knowing look when she said something like that. It was infuriating how easily he could read all of them, but also, she had to admit, it came in handy. Getting any of them to ‘talk it out’ was like pulling teeth.

 Anyway, Crystal and Edwin arrived at the greenhouse they assumed the journal was hidden in and snooped around a la Scooby Doo.

 Well, snooping was a generous word for it. It was more like ‘warlocks have no subtlety whatsoever at all so he just left it in a big fancy box in the middle of the floor and the only way he could’ve possibly made it more obvious was by installing a literal neon sign’ but Crystal really wanted to be back in her apartment watching shitty reality tv from the comfort of her bed so she wasn’t gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.

 ‘This feels like a trap.’ Edwin stated.

 ‘Yep.’

 ‘But unless we want to explain to a peeved warlock why his top-secret diary is still in his enemy’s hands, we must.’

 ‘Yep.’

 Crystal stepped forward into the centre of the room, and swapped the journal for the literal kilo of gold in her bag. She hoped the other guy was happy with it and did plenty of little science experiments, since carrying around that much gold was heavy and also a good way to get mugged. 

 She said that out loud, actually, and then had to explain to Edwin that she was being sarcastic. He could dish it out all day long but most of the time he missed it.

 While she swapped the stuff, she kept an eye out. It felt very Indiana Jones to her, and she didn’t have time in her schedule for getting crushed by a boulder or thrown into a snake pit. When nothing went obviously wrong, though, they headed for the exit.

 In her experience, wherever magic or petty fights were involved, it was a good idea to get the hell out of dodge before something else kicked off.

 Crystal was proven correct.

 She really wished she wasn’t.

 As soon as they stepped out of the greenhouse, both of them smelt something weird- like a party popper- and the box behind them made an ominous grinding noise. They went from stepping to sprinting in record time, and made it just beyond the gate when things got hot.

 Not in the fun way, either- literally hot. The temperature soared and plummeted and soared again in the span of a second, almost two quickly for Crystal to differentiate between them.

 The next sensation she felt was being pushed, hard, onto the gravel path. 

 A moment later, she felt the ground pulse beneath her like waves at the beach, and a wind hitting everything in a twenty-foot radius so violently it flattened the grass.

 Then the sound caught up to the chaos. It was less of a kaboom and more of a fwoosh, to put it as scientifically as humanly possible, and Crystal groaned. They needed to get the hell out of there before the cops showed up and arrested them for blowing up an antique building. 

 ‘Fuck my life…’ She said, and tried to sit up.

 In the chaos before, she’d been too busy feeling every other sensation to notice a light, slightly chilly pressure on her back. Almost like…

 ‘Edwin, are you on top of me?’ Crystal asked.

 The pressure lifted, and Edwin made a sound like all the air had been punched out of him. She sat up, gravel digging into her palms, and looked at him in confusion. Then she yelped.

 Edwin had been on top of her- because he’d noticed something she hadn’t. Namely, that the gate they’d ran through was rickety as hell, so old and beat, in fact, that breaking the lock and getting in was an absolute breeze. So when an honest-to-god explosion hit it, it obviously couldn’t take it. Edwin’s reflexes were so quick they were nearly uncanny- and they’d come in fucking handy that day.

 He’d sensed the threat before she had, and thrown himself on top of her before the blast hit. The blast in question took the gate off the hinges. Bits of it went flying everywhere.

 Bits of wrought iron gate.

 Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! Oh fucking fuck, they were so fucked.

 Edwin was kneeling beside her with shrapnel sticking out of his chest like porcupine quills. Clinically, and almost curiously, he tugged on one. Crystal swore, but he didn’t make a peep. Look, Charles had told her a hundred times that Edwin had an insanely high pain tolerance, and she’d seen plenty of evidence herself to confirm it, but this was a whole ‘nother level of ‘what is this dead boy even made out of?’

 She’d seen Charles’ reaction to even a little bit of iron, and it hadn’t been pretty. In fact, she’d learned a whole lot of British swear words in the span of ten seconds.

 ‘It is- it is not too bad-’ Edwin said.

 Crystal stared at him with her mouth open.

 Edwin’s chest looked like he’d been locked in an iron maiden and the only indication he gave that he was in any distress at all was the way his eyes widened. Most people probably wouldn’t have noticed that, but she was his friend, and she knew some of his tells by now. He was in pain. He just wasn’t showing it.

 Just when she thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, she heard sirens. Then Edwin lurched forwards onto his hands and knees.

 Ghost logic be damned, she scooched towards him so she could grab his shoulder.

 He couldn’t feel it, obviously, he was dead, and all she could feel was that same almost-nonexistent chill she felt every time she touched a ghost, but it made both of them feel a little better. Edwin relaxed a smidge, anyway.

 ‘Holy shit, Edwin- are you okay?’ She asked.

 ‘Well, I am currently a human pincushion, so I’ll let you deduce the answer to that.’ He replied through gritted teeth.

 A thought struck her, and so did a new kind of fear. ‘Hang on- ghosts can go to Oblivion if they hurt too much, right? Oh, god, please tell me you’re not gonna die for a second time, Charles will actually evaporate on the spot when he finds out.’

 The mention of Charles made Edwin a little less wild-eyed, and he cleared his throat. It sounded wet and painful.

 That didn’t stop him saying, ‘You need to run back to the office and fetch Charles. He is-’

 The distant sirens got a lot closer, and Edwin glanced up before he screwed his eyes shut and continued;

 ‘He is better equipped to deal with this. It is not… the first time we have deal with something like this. And do be swift.’

 Crystal was torn between wanting to stay with her hurt friend and doing what she was told because, unfortunately, Edwin tended to know what he was talking about. Her indecision was cured when he muttered, ‘please,’ and he sounded so genuinely vulnerable it scared her.

 ‘Right.’ She got to her feet and nodded. ‘Right. I’ll be back as soon as I can-’

 Edwin shook his head, though all of him was shivering, so it might’ve been involuntary. ‘You cannot risk being arrested on suspicion of arson. S-stay in the office until Charles returns.’

 She noticed he said Charles and not we. Her fear doubled.

 ‘Just hang on, okay? Please don’t disappear. I haven’t got that many friends left, ‘Win.’

  Edwin made a noise that could’ve been an agreement, and fully sank to the ground, careful not to jostle any of the jagged metal sticking out of him. Crystal swallowed, hard, and ran.

 She could only hope Charles knew how to help more than she did.