Human Spines

Rooms Number Eight-V

Hans

        Lochlan is no longer teary-eyed, but I can still feel the lugubriosity of his silence. Mournful, as if he just attended a funeral. But I also feel this sort of relieved hope, attempting to take hold of him. He listens to the conversation, but does not stop his eating to join. It's as if he's waiting for something.

        And I see it. Him. It. The Grinch. The doors to the restaurant swing soundlessly as he steps between them. Nearly seven feet tall and... quite a bit skinnier than usual. Furry and moss green, his eyes are glowing a bright white. He's glaring at us, casting a spotlight upon our table. He smiles, the most horrid, curled baring of teeth. Fangs narrow and so overlapping, they belong in a shark's mouth. He shows them off, holey and rotten, sliding his black mold-spotted tongue across them, leaving an ooze of fizzing brown saliva to drip and sizzle over his bug-infested maw. His eyebrows seem almost alive, twin venomous caterpillars, waiting to dance to their master's expressions. They crunch as they squirm, a moist crackle with every movement. It's giving me the collywobbles. The only thing I can think to do is quote the Grinch's own words back to him.

        "It's a wonderful night for eyebrows. It's a wonderful night for teeth!"

Emmeline

        "There is something erroneous with that one. He cannot espy me correctly." Amistifer's leaning down over the back of the booth, his head pushed between Dumaine's and mine. "His oculus should not detect me at all," he whispers about Hans into my ear.

        "And inform this one I'm the one who's authorized the manipulating of your currency," he breathes. And stares. He's waiting for me to tell Dumaine but his head is in the way. I take my hand and push his forehead back. Hans cringes as I touch the Demon.

        "Amistifer's the one changing the money," I tell Dumaine but he looks slightly confused, his eyebrow twitching. Well it's better than him looking panicked.

        "That's the Grinch!" Hans states quite confidently. The Grinch... Oh! That's why he was talking about eyebrows and teeth. I bet if Amistifer knew who the Grinch was, he wouldn't be happy that's what Hans sees him as.

        "There is a ratiocination for which I am here, Emmeline. I wanted to acquaint with your friends. I've been informed that exceptional fathers don't allow their children to gallivant about New York City without at least learning of who the other gallivanters are." Amistifer twists his fingers into my hair. It's strangely comforting. Amistifer can be pleasant when he comes with answers instead of questions.

        Lochlan sets his chopsticks down, lifting his head. "I'm Lochlan, Emmeline's friend."

        "No, I believe you are attempting to be her bulwark. She thinks she's your friend also, but somewhere in her head, she knows you are not. DO NOT"—Amistifer jabs a finger toward Lochlan, who was about to interrupt him—"DISRESPECT ME BY SPEAKING OVER ME, BOY! I know who you think you are!" He curls his fingers back into my hair and kisses the top of my head. "If you were her friend she would be holding your hand, monitoring your pulse, and keeping you perpetually in her peripheral vision." He tilts my head to look back at him. "Emmeline, why did you choose this one as your friend." He motions toward Dumaine. "There is nothing heteroclite about him. At least the other one can see me." I notice something as he glances at Dumaine. He doesn't actually glance at Dumaine. He looks just past him, his eyes casting strange shadows. "He's nearly invisible."