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Swordfights en Masque
Topic Started: Sep 25 2010, 02:54 AM (356 Views)
Calleigh Bancroft
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After weeks of planning, gathering supplies, and chatting nonstop with her girlfriends about it, the day of the Masquerade Ball swept through Hogwarts. Calleigh loved attending balls. She loved getting dressed to the maximum in fancy garb and parading about, looking stunning. It was something she was good at, thanks to her mother’s constant advice on fashion and social gatherings. So, when it came time for her to don her new Madam Victoria dress, Calleigh was hardly able to contain her excitement.

She stole the loo in the girl’s dormitory very early in the afternoon in order to curl her hair and apply just the right mixture of make up to make it look like she was wearing no make up at all. The only person allowed in the room with her was Abby, to help her pin up her hair in all the right places. And to help to tie up her corset. And button the gown. And place the mask on her face just right, so that it didn’t tangle up her perfected hair.

Everything was going to be perfect, she could feel it. Deep down, part of her knew why she wanted to look perfect. But she wasn’t going to think about him. It was a silly girl thing anyway. Something that had caused her both butterflies and random blushes. She couldn’t help it now, when she saw him in the hallways, it wasn’t the same acquaintance interaction she was used to. There were actual greetings, sometimes small conversations, glances across the room. They may have crossed the line into friendship somewhere along the way.

Besides, she didn’t even know if he was going to the ball.

When she stepped out of the loo, it took a lot of effort on her part not to blush at the compliments that she had received from the other girls. All of which looked equally stunning - a fact that she had made known in the most lavish way. It was a girl thing; complimenting heavily to make everyone feel good about themselves. It was a duty. A rule.

The girls all stood around in their dorm room, throwing together last minute ideas for their hair or their perfume, until it was time to descend the staircase and join the boys of Hogwarts in the Entrance Hall to catch the carriages. Calleigh chose a delicate scent of wisteria blossoms and lilac. She also had Claire clasp the opal necklace around her neck.

Descending the staircase had been one of the shining moments of the evening. Calleigh took each stair slowly, wanting to really draw in the dramatic effect. The girls of every house had their entrances choreographed down to the simplest step on the stairs. One after another they sashayed, drawing the attention of every male in Hogwarts.

It was her turn to take a second at the foot of the stairs, to peruse the boys and find her the small group that she was accompanying to the ball. With everyone mixed in the way they were, it was hard to tell who came from which house. It was the perfect way to stay a mystery.

She stood at the foot of the stairs and took a deep breath in. Her hands met each other in front of her stomach. As her eyes scanned the crowd, she could have sworn that her brother was the bloke that was reenacting a swordfight with a very tall bloke who, no doubt was Silas. It must have meant that Jude was somewhere close by. Before she had the chance to search him out, another girl behind her, Robbie Halden had crashed into her and flung her into the middle of the crowd.

Straightening herself out, Calleigh took a moment to glance over her form to make sure that the brute didn’t dislodge her hair or unhook something from her dress. It all seemed to be in place, thank Merlin.

The halter top of the emerald green dress gave way to only a small amount of cleavage, and was decorated with a lace and pearl combination that met with a tight, silk wrap around her ribcage. From there the dress flowed out in a cinched style, meeting the ground and covering her matching, strappy heels.

She put a hand to her head and felt around lightly to make sure that each pin was still in place. Her long, curled henna black hair fell over her shoulders and splayed across her creamy skin. The pins that held her hair in place were decorated with small opals to match her jewelry and dress.

Everything was in place, and she finally released the breath she had been holding. Calleigh took a moment to glance back at Halden, who looked genuinely scared and apologetic, and offered her a curt smile and an encouraging nod for her to move out of the next girl’s way.

“Oi, Cal,” another girl whispered. Calleigh spun around, her half-bare back to the entrance door, and scurried over to the small group of jazzed up girls by that statue of Philomena the Pudgy.

“You look fantastic!” The excitement in her voice couldn’t be contained. Jane was wearing a more, Calleigh tried to think of a word that was not ‘slutty’, but failed, dress and had her hair twisted into a knot at the base of her neck. The black mask she was wearing perfectly outlined her dark eyes and drew magnificent attention to the delicate curves of her face.

Jane put her hand to Calleigh’s mask and giggled. “I can’t believe you went with the gold. It really brings out your eyes.”

Calleigh giggled and rolled her eyes. It had taken her four different catalogues, two trips to Hogsmeade, a call to her mother and finally, a personal request to one of the designers she knew from Diagon Alley before she found the right mask. It was a very light golden color, inlaid with swirling, glittering patterns around the eyeholes. The mask raised slightly on one side, but had very fine, rounded wisps of gold that came up above her forehead on the other side.

Yes, that’s the exact reason why it had taken so long.

“The first carriages to for Hogsmeade will depart in five minutes. Please allow the seventh years to board first. Enjoy your evening, and be safe.” Reynolds opened the front doors of the school and the student body poured outside.

Calleigh remained close to Jane, Penelope and Claire, not wanting to get stuck in a carriage with someone she didn’t know very well, like Halden, or Merlin help her, Silas Matthews.

Boarding the carriages had been a difficult process. The girls’ dresses were a sea of rainbow colors, all shoved into a six person carriage. In her carriage alone, there were eight people. Probably something to save the invisible horses some energy from going back and forth all night.

Whatever she had been expecting of the ball itself, it had certainly surpassed all of her expectations when she entered the ballroom. In the far back of the room there was a large bar, decorated with oranges and greens, pumpkins and crystal. The entire ballroom was large enough to fit hundreds of people. The bright chandelier above was casting shimmering light down onto the floor.

Calleigh felt breathless. As more and more people began filtering in, the music began. It was light, simple… old. She hoped that would change as the night progressed.

“I’m going to get a drink, Cal, you want anything,” Jane’s voice lifted her from whatever reverie she had retired to for the moment, and she caught herself searching the masked faces of people, trying to guess who was who.

To be honest, she didn’t have a clue.

“Would it be too dull if I had a bottle of lager?” Her voice was hopeful.

Jane shook her head. “Elvish wine it is, then.”

Calleigh smiled brightly. “I thought as much. I’ll come with you. There are so many people here… what if I mistake Brenner for someone else?”

Laughing, Jane led the way to the bar. “Gryffindor my arse.”
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Jude McFadyen
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The night began to go horribly awry right around the time Leonard Brannigan forgot to strap down his copy of The Monster Book of Monsters and it proceeded to go on a teeth-gnashing rampage of terror throughout the boys’ dormitories just as they’d all started preparing for the masquerade ball.

Jude, of course, leaped to help almost immediately – partly because you’re always prepared for this sort of thing when you’re a Merry Man, and also because any excuse to delay putting on his dress robes was, in his opinion, a good one. Unfortunately, this philanthropic little caper didn’t come without its consequences, and due to the overly-aggressive nature of Leonard’s havoc-wreaking book, some casualties were suffered by the time Jude managed to wrestle it into submission.

Mostly bed sheets and a few shoes. Though, the worst, by far, had been the mask Leonard had been planning on wearing to the ball. The thing was mangled beyond hope of salvation; which wouldn’t have been the end of the world if masks hadn’t been singled out as required attire for the evening. To make matters worse, Leonard was a somewhat shy third year who’d spent weeks trying to wrestle up the nerve to ask Lizzie Campbell to the dance, and ever since she’d said yes, he’d been able to talk of little else.

But no mask, no masquerade. The statue in the fifth floor corridor of Dillamond the bloody Downtrodden couldn’t have looked as dejected as Leonard had in that moment. Only a cold and thoroughly heartless sort of person would have been able to remain unmoved by the sight of him, really.

And that, in a nutshell, was how Jude had come to arrive at the Three Broomsticks a good half hour late with scratches on his hands and a thin strip of ragged bed sheet tied around his head.

Ah, well. Appearances were overrated, anyway. Besides, he wasn’t the one with a date to impress, and Leonard was a good kid. Bit of a walking disaster, but certainly worth taking one for the team for. Sure, the dark fabric made Jude look more like a highwayman than an elegantly mysterious gentleman, but the rest of him managed to balance it out a little, at least. His black dress robes were simple, but well-tailored in a way that brought out his height and lean figure. Surely that helped him blend in some.

‘Course, there was also the unbuttoned collar of his white shirt, the black tie that was just a touch too loose, and the mop of unruly, hazel hair that had defied any attempts at taming, so maybe that wasn’t entirely accurate, after all…

Bugger, he was awful at this. It really should have worried him that things like wrangling a fanged, out-of-control textbook were more in his comfort zone than attending a harmless Black Tie event. That couldn’t possibly be normal.

Although, to be fair, this particular event was a bit unprecedented, even for Hogwarts. Hell, if it hadn’t been for the mass of students that surrounded him, Jude would have been absolutely convinced he was in the wrong place when he stepped through the door. The Three Broomsticks was unrecognizable. Far, far more spacious, for one, with plenty of room for an enormously grand dance floor. Enchanted pumpkins floated above the crowd, candlelight flickering warmly out of the various faces that had been carved into them. The air smelled of cider and cinnamon, black and orange linens covered chairs and tabletops, intricately patterned cobwebs had been decoratively spun into corners and across rafters—there were even a few ghosts wisping merrily about the room, chatting with couples and mocking the horrendously boring music by moaning along with it solemnly.

They’d really outdone themselves this year.

Juuuuuuude! Is that you under there?” a sugary, sing-song voice inquired suddenly.

He moved to turn, but the girl beat him to it, bustling into his line of vision with a rapid swish of her peony pink skirts. Behind a matching, glittery mask, the unmistakable features of Noelle Lillard met his glance with a winning smile – which, upon further study, was taking on a rather devious and troubling curl at the corners.

And that was when the distinctive, overpowering scent of Madame Matilda’s Magical Mesmerizing Love Perfume hit him.

Every boy knew that scent. It had caused quite a stir at Hogwarts for a good week or so when the product had first become available, but the novelty fizzled out almost as quickly as it had appeared due to the foul-smelling stuff’s dismal 5% success rate. The other 95% of the time it either didn’t work at all, or seemed only to attract – bizarrely enough – a good portion of the school’s owl population. It was like catnip for birds. The morning post had been utter mayhem those first few days.

Clearly, Noelle hadn’t gotten the memo. Though, it more than explained why she was suddenly very insistent on standing as uncomfortably close to him as she could get.

“It is you,” she concluded after a moment, reaching up to playfully nudge his shoulder. “I’d know that hair anywhere.”

Jude hazarded an uncertain grin, wondering if he was her first victim of the night, or if she’d already tried to accost a couple others before him. Judging from the wide berth a few blokes seemed to be giving the girl, the latter appeared more likely.

“Got me,” he conceded with a small, hesitant laugh. Less than subtly, he reached up a hand, and for a moment his fingers became lost in the tawny expanse of his hair, as though pushing back the wayward fringe might erase it from existence entirely. Or at the very least turn it a less incriminating color.

Noelle’s smile only seemed to grow wider and more winsome. “You’re very dashing tonight…” she trailed off in a purr, edging closer as she rested a hand on his sleeve.

Jude had unconsciously begun to lean slowly backwards, making an effort not to look as though he smelled a skunk (Merlin, the stuff was potent.) But he was so caught up in trying to figure out a way to handle the situation tactfully, he didn’t notice how precarious his balance had become. Not until he backed straight into a passing, tray-wielding house-elf, anyway.

Appetizers went flying, the metal tray crashed noisily to the floor, and Jude stumbled and cursed before quickly helping the bewildered house-elf to his feet again – all while hastily continuing his backward retreat.

Sorry – bloody hell – so sorry,” he fumbled, highly aware that people were staring, including a very bereft looking Noelle. He met her gaze and gestured vaguely and somewhat awkwardly to some distant point behind him. “I’m just… I’ll be right back.”

Thankfully, his dexterity and coordination skills returned by the time he spun around and seamlessly disappeared into the crowd; though the fact that they’d deserted him at all – if only briefly – was solid proof of how thoroughly out of his element he was. He didn’t even have a specific destination in mind as he navigated his way forward, but that problem was quickly solved when he caught sight of a bar up ahead. Letting out a controlled and mildly relieved breath, he honed in on it like it was a beacon.

Unsurprisingly, his haste to reach it was what brought about the second collision of the evening.

All he caught was the barest flash of dark hair and emerald green silk before the figure in his path unknowingly spun round and bumped right into him. He cursed, she gasped, and his hand shot out like a whip to catch her wrist in order to steady the drink she held before it could go sloshing all over the place.

Rattled, he quickly began to apologize. “Bugger, I’m so sorry, I—”

Two things hit him at once, then, strongly enough to cut off the string of words with effortless ease. The first was the intoxicatingly pleasant scent that enveloped him—light, clean, flowery, and so wholly incomparable to Madame Matilda’s Magical Mesmerizing Love Perfume, the relief of it nearly crushed him. And the second was…

“Calleigh,” he breathed in surprised realization.

There was no mistaking her. Even with the ornate mask covering half of her features, the dark gleam of her hair and flawless, pale porcelain of her skin were as recognizable to him now as his own reflection would have been. But it was her eyes that resonated; a bright, varnished hazel that could not decide whether it wanted to be more gold or green in the warmth of the candlelight that flickered softly above them. And it was her eyes that stilled him while the rest of the room spun away, and her eyes that washed away the tension from his body as though it had never been there in the first place.

“Merlin, you look incredible,” he finally said, soft and low.

The words unfurled from him simply. Honestly. No flair, no dramatics, no premeditation – and somewhere in the tone lay an almost imperceptible hint of wonder, as though the concept of her looking incredible had never really occurred to him before.

Which of course it had, he’d always thought she was beautiful. But this felt… different, somehow.

A sound edged at his awareness, breaking him from his thoughts, and when he blinked, he realized what it was. The ominous click-click-click of rapidly approaching heels. Sure enough, when he turned, he caught a sudden flash of familiar pink, and nothing on this earth could have spurred him into action faster.

With only a small amount of visible alarm, he plucked the drink from Calleigh’s hand, quickly deposited it on a passing tray, and spoke in such a rush, the words verged on unintelligible.

“Dance with me,” he said, not even waiting for a response before grabbing her hand and dodging past people swiftly until they made it to the dance floor.

There was a cheery, uptempo sort of waltz playing now, and in one smooth motion, Jude spun Calleigh around until they faced each another. He caught her by the waist, and suddenly they were whirling away, perfectly in time together, even if they were moving just a touch too fast for the music itself. But it was the first welcome thrill he’d had since stepping through the door, and soon Jude was grinning, just on the edge of a laugh, forgetting entirely what he’d even been so eager to get away from to begin with.

They reached the opposite side of the room far too quickly. He slowed them to a stop when they neared the less crowded area of the dance floor, both a bit breathless as they slipped past the few students that hovered at the edges there. When he was able, Jude turned to the girl he’d just stolen a dance from and had the decency to look mildly sheepish.

“Sorry about that,” he told her, lifting a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “I don’t normally force people into waltzing with me.”

Really, he only felt marginally bad about the whole thing, but he wasn’t about to let her know it. Instead, his smile took on a faintly impish air, and he attempted to assuage the situation by admitting something else entirely.

“If it makes you feel better, I had every honorable intention of asking you for one of those eventually.”
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Calleigh Bancroft
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Drinks with Janey had only lasted until her dashing, debonair date came and swooped her away and out to the dance floor. Calleigh watched her friend get whisked away with laughter on her lips. Everyone seemed to focus on either the bar or the dancing, and Calleigh was quite content nursing another glass of wine.

She honestly had no idea what to do next. By choice, she came without a date, but her resolve in turning down any and all offers to dance or snog behind a festively decorated column seemed compulsory. She liked to dance at fancy gatherings. But, any bloke that approached her for a dance was instantly turned down with no logical form of explanation. Calleigh was a bit perplexed by her quick refusals. She didn't understand why dancing had lost its appeal.

A warm hand covered hers and she glanced down at it, as if just studying the back of the masculine hand was going to tell her who it belonged to. Her heart fluttered for a moment, but when she raised her hazel eyes to the complacent smile of Gilbert Schook, Calleigh's interest deflated. Usually, she quite liked the Hufflepuff, but not enough to hold hands with him. And certainly not to dance-

“You look magnanimous, Calleigh,” he practically shouted over the low and steady tempo of the music. The slowly crawling leer on his face made Calleigh's faux smile fall.

She quickly pulled her hand from underneath his, slid off of her seat at the bar, and backed up a few paces with her wine still in hand. Gilbert stood and Calleigh took one more step back, eying him warily. His ridiculous bow at the waist was her cue to glance around for help. If she could rush over to Janey and Evan, she could dodge this whole scene. She searched quickly, but it was no use; the faces were covered and people were dressed in things they'd normally never wear. The only way she'd be able to tell them apart was if she spoke to them, or if she got close enough.

“Would you do me the honor of taking my hand and dancing with me?” It was so utterly ridiculous, to hear those words in that exaggerated, posh accent. She flushed on his behalf. How was he not embarrassed for himself, acting like such a prat?

“No, thank you... I'm just going to-” She spun around without finishing her sentence, intent on racing away to the far end of the ballroom. Far, far away from the attention of Schook.

Calleigh didn't get the chance to make a getaway, however. Instead, she crashed into what she immediately thought was a wall, but upon further inspection, was a person. Her first instinct was to let out a hearty and sharp "oi", but it fell short. She caught the dark green eyes, and the untamable locks of hair. The familiar feel of his hand. The lackadaisical ambiance that always radiated from him. Casually mussed up attire. A curious, odd sliver of ragged cloth that barely covered his identity. Jude.

Her “oi” was reduced to a breathless and surprised, “Oh.”

Bugger. I'm so sorry, I-”

Calleigh took in a deep breath while she had the chance and attempted to force some semblance of composure about herself. Not a dangling jaw or wide, shocked and awe-filled eyes. Just some... grace. It fled from her completely. Her face reddened, her throat went dry.

“Calleigh.” It wasn't her name on his lips that struck her and stole her ability to speak; it was the way that he said it. An air of marvel as his eyes searched her face. She felt like the only person in the room with him. Her reaction to Jude was the exact opposite of every other reaction she had that night. When he told her that she looked incredible, she didn't roll her eyes or look for a way to dodge him. She stared directly into his eyes and reveled in the tingling feeling that scattered through her veins from her head to her toes.

It was...different, somehow.

Before she had a chance to suss out whatever feelings were thundering through her, her drink was plucked from her hand. As Jude set her drink down, Calleigh turned her head for only a moment to see Gilbert’s glaring eyes on the intrusion. Like he had a chance and Jude had ruined it. She was about to tell him as much, but he spoke first.

“Dance with me.”

There wasn’t even a second that she considered saying no or pulling away from him. Their quick sprint to the dance floor ended in a twirl that she had barely been prepared for, and when she was back in his arms, she couldn’t take her exhilarated eyes off of his face. She didn’t have time to think how well they moved together, or how in sync they stayed with each other, or how she could trace his steps so easily with her own. The lively rhythm of the music stole the small fragment of her mind that wasn’t completely occupied with Jude.

Calleigh couldn’t remember a time that she had felt so carefree. Especially with Jude, who seemed to bring with him a cartel of adventure and danger. It was a different side; a brighter side.

Their feet slowed as they reached the other end of the ballroom. The exact place she was looking to run to before she crashed into him, she thought, watching the back of his sandy haired head as he led them toward a less crowded wall. Her breath was coming out heavier than normal and she had the strongest urge to check that her hair was still in place. The thought was easily dispelled when she realized whose company she was in, with his rogue locks flying every which way on his head. Okay, not as wild as Sebastian’s, who needed to learn to tame his beast with styling product, but … endearing in its own way.

“Sorry about that,” Jude said, lifting a hand to the back of his head, as if he could hear her thoughts about his endearing hair qualities. “I don’t normally force people into waltzing with me. If it makes you feel better, I had every honorable intention of asking you for one of those eventually.”

Calleigh canted her head down to try and hide the ridiculous smile that was beginning to creep up her cheeks. When she brought her eyes to his, finally feeling as though she had control over her facial expressions, she lost the little hold she had and her face lit up in an absurd grin.

“Did you decide on that before or after you noticed how incredible I look tonight?” she teased him., eyes sparkling mirthfully. “Lucky for you I wasn’t someone horrible like Gertrude Osteen.”

The poor girl. She really didn’t have much of a chance with all those boils that had appeared on her skin overnight. It was even worse when she had tried to disguise them with Healer Narcissus’ Tan Tonic and turned a stomach-churning shade of tangerine.

“So, why the quick getaway?” Calleigh’s soft giggle died in her throat when a familiar voice called her name from the same pathway that she and Jude created on the dance floor. “Aw, bloody hell.”

She saw his dark brown robes jostling around the dancing couples and glanced around sharply to find some route of escape. For some reason, when Jude was around, there always seemed to be a door that led to who-knew-where. She was thankful for it just then. Grabbing Jude’s arm for no discernible reason, Calleigh yanked open the door and pulled Jude in after her.

“Calleigh! There you are, poppet!”

She shuddered and slammed the door shut. Pulling her wand out from a hidden pocket in her gown, Calleigh aimed at the door and muttered a locking spell that would keep that git out for the foreseeable future. As her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she walked forward and smiled at Jude as she passed him by. The bangs on the locked door echoed off of the cement walls that surrounded them were easily ignored when she realized where they were. The storage room of The Three Broomsticks.

“I doubt we’ll have to worry about secret passageways in here,” she said lightly, taking a step down the staircase that led to the bottom of the basement. It smelled of old ale and dust. Boxes lined the walls below, and shelves of oddly shaped glass bottles were covered with cobwebs. “Probably not many bloodlusting suits of armor, either.”

When she reached the bottom of the staircase with Jude just behind her, her eyes saw something glinting from an opened box on the floor. Pulling her dress up to avoid stirring up the dust on the floor, Calleigh scurried over to the box, crouched down and gasped excitedly when she saw its contents. Swords. She reached for it tentatively, her fingers gingerly sliding over the sooty shaft.

Why would the Three Broomsticks have swords in their storage room? Calleigh glanced over her shoulder at Jude. She pulled the sword out from the box, holding on to the dull, blade portion of it, and turned herself on her heels so that she was facing Jude completely.

For a moment, she forgot that she had no idea how to handle a sword. Her brain was working on impressing him, or showing him that she wasn’t such the distressing damsel that she appeared to be. Of course, she was, but Calleigh was beyond that rationale.

Tossing the sword in the air, she made an attempt to grab it at the hilt. And failed. In her haste to catch it, Calleigh lost her balance on the balls of her feet and fell forward onto her hands and knees. The sword clattered to the ground just in front of her, about an inch away from Jude’s boots, which, in their rugged, scruffy state, clashed horribly with the rest of his pristine wardrobe.

She lifted her hung head, dark curls spilling over her shoulders and into her face, and smiled awkwardly. “Never quite got the hang of that.”
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Jude McFadyen
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Watching Calleigh duck her head in a failed attempt to hide a smile after their impromptu waltz filled Jude – for a very small, but wonderful moment – with the undeniable feeling of having done something right. Perhaps, he thought (doing nothing whatsoever to conceal the way his own lips quirked at the corners), he hadn’t made an utter, bollocksed mess of the evening after all.

“Did you decide on that before or after you noticed how incredible I look tonight?” she wondered aloud with a knowing glint in the hazel stare she fixed on him.

“Oh, definitely after. Bloke can’t take a chance like that,” he deadpanned quite soberly.

Meanwhile, his green eyes twinkled just as teasingly as hers had.

“Lucky for you I wasn’t someone horrible like Gertrude Osteen.”

Gertrude Osteen… Gertrude Osteen…

Ah, now he had it. Gryffindor sixth year. He’d caught a brief glimpse of her when he’d first walked in, actually. Hiding out in one of the room’s darker corners. Attempting to ignore the enchanted floating pumpkin that was trying to flirt with her.

Bit unfortunate…

“So, why the quick getaway?” an amused Calleigh inquired with a soft rustle of laughter.

Jude opened his mouth only to realize that he really didn’t know quite how to explain their speedy flight across the dance floor. Somehow ‘I was desperately trying to avoid falling into the nefarious clutches of a foul-smelling female’ didn’t exactly sound as dire as it had seemed at the time. Mostly it just sounded silly.

“Er…”

Mercifully, he never got the chance to finish. Someone seemed to be shouting something in their direction over the music, and the instant Calleigh heard it was the same instant all the blood drained from her now mirthless features. In fact, she looked like someone who’d just become very painfully and suddenly aware of her extremely imminent death.

“Aw, bloody hell.”

Confused, Jude peered towards the dance floor and caught a flash of what appeared to be a rapidly approaching and spectacularly hideous set of brown robes. Inside them, a boy jumped and flailed about like an oxygen-deprived mackerel.

“Calleigh! There you are, poppet!”

Jude lifted a brow, possibly even more puzzled now than he’d been before. “Is that Sch—”

But he never got the chance to finish that either, because the words cut off the moment something yanked him sharply sideways. The next thing he knew he was stumbling through a nearby door seconds before a mildly panicked Calleigh slammed and locked it shut behind them.

Darkness.

If the evening had gone a little differently for him, Jude might have chosen that moment to make an amused comment of some sort. But, seeing how he was hardly in the position to be having a go where speedy getaways were concerned, he kept his mouth decidedly closed on the matter and opted instead to work on adjusting his vision to the light-deprived space around him.

All while fighting off an extraordinarily overwhelming sense of déjà vu.

“I doubt we’ll have to worry about secret passageways in here,” Calleigh read his mind with a faint grin as she brushed past. There were stairs just ahead, leading down into what appeared to be the building’s basement, and Jude watched as she gingerly began to descend them. “Probably not many bloodlusting suits of armor, either.”

He managed to withhold a snort as he followed after her, but only just barely. “I think you’re underestimating our combined propensity for finding ourselves in unlikely situations.”

Not that he was complaining. The room that opened up below them was dim and quiet and oddly cozy in a cluttered sort of way – a welcome change from the bustle and noise of the ballroom just above their heads. Stacks of crates lined the walls in scattered intervals and glass bottles gleamed faintly beneath a coat of dust from where they sat on rotting wooden shelves. The air was cooler down here, musty under the scent of damp clay, but not entirely unpleasant.

Jude was so engrossed in his study of the wide area, he had yet to notice Calleigh’s own preoccupation. Not until she gasped, anyway.

He pivoted just in time to catch sight of her – crouched and several feet away – tentatively begin to lift something long and gleaming from the contents of what looked like a large, battered trunk. She paused for a moment, her back to him, and then, in a whirl of skirts, she spun round, and Jude suddenly found himself staring at the business end of a very old, very rusty, and very dull looking sword.

His hands flew up comically fast.

“Whoa! Easy there, Zorro, watch where you point that thing.”

He tried looking convincingly threatened, but that’s a surprisingly difficult feat to accomplish when you’re fighting back a stubbornly determined smile, it turns out. Generally, people who are about to be slain keep those to a minimum.

Not to undermine her ability to intimidate or anything. To give her credit, it was a pretty banged up old thing, the sword, and looked like it probably hadn’t been sharpened in about a century or two. Which was good, because Calleigh had it by the blade, not the hilt, he noticed.

Or she did, anyway, before she decided to toss it theatrically into the air. This time, the alarm on Jude’s features wasn’t faked at all.

Though, whether that alarm was directed at the sword clattering loudly to the ground just a few inches from his feet, or the girl who lost her footing mere milliseconds after wasn’t immediately ascertainable. Honestly, it was probably a little of both.

From the ground, Calleigh bashfully lifted her gaze, eyes glinting behind the curtain of dark, wayward curls that partially covered them. “Never quite got the hang of that."

Jude appraised her with a small shake of his head. “You’re definitely related to Sebastian.”

He moved to help her, then, with just a hint of mirth shadowing the corners of his lips, and when she was safely back on two feet, he bent once more to retrieve the fallen weapon that had gotten away from her. It was a heavy, formidable thing (probably a good blade in its prime), but Jude hefted it with an unceremonious ease—the sort that only came with practice and age-old familiarity.

“You're too eager, that’s all,” he informed her, not unkindly. As he spoke he adjusted his grip on the blade’s hilt, testing the weapon’s weight, watching the way it moved through the air when he gave a smooth, experimental turn of his wrist. “You need to get acquainted with each other first. Introduce yourself.”

He turned, caught her gaze with a small, encouraging (and only slightly amused) grin, and abruptly reached for her hand. “Here – take it again,” he instructed, carefully transferring the hilt to her open palm before guiding her fingers around it securely.

“Like that.” He maneuvered himself around her, then, taking care not to tread on her dress, until he was just at her back. His hand cupped her elbow, lifting it slightly, and once her arm was raised enough, he brought his fingers to hers, wrapping his larger hand around her pale one.

“Not too tight. You don’t want to lose feeling in them,” he laughed slightly. “There. Bend your knees a little. Even out your weight.” Once she had, he gently adjusted the angle of her wrist. “Wrists straight. Quickest way to an injury, otherwise.” His voice was low and calm just above her ear, and his arm was a ballast beside hers; a strong, stable guide.

“Hold it firm, near your center of gravity.” He lowered her arm a fraction, righting the balance. “Not too low, not too high. Leave nothing vulnerable.”

Above their heads, like an echo from a distant world, he could hear strains of music, faint and ghostly. For some reason, the room seemed smaller, suddenly, and Jude became very aware of the girl he stood so close to, noticing for perhaps the first time how alone they really were in this room beneath the world.

After that, he noticed other things. Her warmth, the clean, flowery scent of her hair, the slightness of her form against his broader one. Heartbeats and soft skin. Something electric in the air, subtler than magic, but infinitely stronger.

“That’s good.” His voice came out huskier than normal, so he swallowed hard. Ignoring the tightening in his chest as he smiled faintly, and trying to get a hold of himself by speaking again in a light attempt at humor.

“Better than Seb already.”
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Calleigh Bancroft
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Impressing Jude definitely failed. Calleigh's first note to self, a rule that would make her top five throughout her life, was to never attempt to showcase talent where talent does not exist. Especially if it involved swords. Or anything remotely dangerous, to be fair. Her ability to find danger in something seemingly harmless should have been a cause for worry. Not this strange feeling she was having now; not quite giddy, but not exactly calm. A feeling she was familiar with when Jude was around. Adrenaline - not the kind that makes your hearing go floaty, but the kind that makes you want to throw your hands up in the air and shout excitedly. It was the oddest thing for someone who appreciated safety.

"You're definitely related to Sebastian," Jude told her, sounding mildly amused.

A nervous bubble of laughter escaped her. Her cheeks reddened as Jude approached her and helped her back to her feet. She wanted to apologize for acting like a gumbo, but couldn't get the words out correctly. It was a mumble. Barely a breath that came from her lips. Calleigh felt flighty. Away with the fairies. As she watched Jude reach for the rusted sword, she noticed how handsome his profile was; the windswept hair that had never been tidy since she'd known him, the fuzz on his face that seemed to give his jawline just the right amount of shadow to make it appear stronger, more manly rather than boyish. There was something more to him than she had noticed in any other schoolboy at Hogwarts.

And that's when the startling realization that she liked Jude set in.

"You're too eager, that's all." Was his voice always like that? So comforting, kind? Deep? She couldn't take her eyes off of him and surprising found the way that he handled the sword alluring. Calleigh was so intent on watching him now, trying to figure out her own feelings, that she couldn't tear her eyes away from every little movement. "You need to get acquainted with each other first. Introduce yourself."

Caught completely off guard by the strange request, Calleigh continued to stare at Jude. Her expression dimmed a little in comparison to the fully alert doe-eyes she had been donning only a moment before. Just in time, too, because he had looked into her eyes then and his smile was too attractive and his eyes were sparkling a little too much. And when he grabbed her hand, there was a strange magic that seemed to shoot straight to her toes. The alarm on her face might have been mistaken as fright of holding the sword again.

"Here - take it again." He was encouraging, But she didn't move. Not until he moved for her, wrapping her fingers around the proper end of the sword. She looked away from him as his hand closed around hers. "Like that."

Her stomach jumped. Maybe she was going to be sick. Luckily for her, Jude chose the moment that she felt a pinch in her stomach to move around to her back. Instantly, she could breathe again. His scent had her all heady. Tingly. Like nothing she had felt before. Like everything that her friends talked about when they waffled on about boys they liked. She took a deep breath as he held her around the elbow, and then another one around her hand. Calleigh couldn't help it - her eyes closed her breathing stopped. She just listened to him, the coolness in his voice. The passivity. Ever Jude. Calm and collected.

She kind of wanted to stomp on his foot and ask him what was the meaning of making her feel like this. All... enchanted by him.

“Not too tight. You don’t want to lose feeling in them,” he laughed slightly. Her heart jumped into her throat. “There. Bend your knees a little. Even out your weight.” She could have come up with a very snarky comment about his mentioning her weight, but it slid by in the moment. She couldn't open her mouth for fear of the thudding of her heart being heard. “Wrists straight. Quickest way to an injury, otherwise. Hold it firm, near your center of gravity.”

Calleigh allowed him to manipulate her stance however he needed. She tried to concentrate on his instruction and why she was meant to do the things he was teaching her. He lowered her arm a fraction, righting the balance. “Not too low, not too high. Leave nothing vulnerable.”

Easy for him to say, she thought as she squeezed her eyes tighter as if banishing the thought from her mind would erase the feelings away all together. It didn't work of course, and everything seemed to slow down and heat up and loop around and go all ... funny... at the same time. It was hard enough trying to remember to breathe.

“That’s good.” His breath hit the side of her face and her eyes flew open. No, these feelings weren't going anywhere. He was making it worse. “Better than Seb already.”

She laughed, nervous and too loud. Way off of her normal tinkering giggle. She had to get away from him so that she could think and gather herself. Sword still in hand, Calleigh jumped away from Jude. Her foot slipped in a dark, oily substance on the floor and she flew forward, sword first, into a dilapidated shelf that played host to half a dozen dusty jugs. The sword impaled one jug and as Calleigh pulled away, she felt the extra weight of the jug still on the sword's tip. She swung it around to try and loosen it. It tore from the sword as Calleigh watched horrorstruck. It zoomed toward Jude, who Calleigh had determined was probably part feline based on his reflexes, and soared over his ducked head, straight into the opposite wall.

The amber liquid inside of the jug seeped out and onto the spare decorations. Some skeletons, a maniac looking jack-o-lantern and what appeared to be a decapitated scarecrow. Ruined decorations, however, were the last thing on her list of priorities to concern herself with. She rushed to Jude immediately, eyes wide and apologetic. When she realized that the sword was still encased in her fisted hand, she threw it to the side as if she had been burned by it.

Quickly forgetting that she had plowed straight into a shelf and probably damaged her dress and a few ribs, Calleigh placed her hands on either side of Jude's face. She scanned him quickly for any cuts or bruises caused by her inept sword handling and jug tossing, but found nothing. He seemed... okay. And that filled her with relief.

"I'm so sorry, Jude. I just... I really don't think it's a good idea for us to be in places alone together." She searched his eyes for something, anything, trying assess him. What was he thinking? How much of a nutter she was? Maybe take back what he said about her being a better swordsman than Seb? An erratic giggle flew out of her mouth before she could stop it. Her hands were warm under the flush of Jude's face.

"You make me so... I don't know...I act like a complete knob around you." She looked genuinely perplexed. Eyebrows raised, lips slightly parted. So much for Calleigh Bancroft's infallible composure. Her pulse was racing. Her legs were wobbly. Too many thoughts in too little of a time. She couldn't comprehend herself.

But out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of something that finally caused her hands to drop from Jude's face. Over Jude's shoulder, she could see that the ruined Halloween decorations weren't so ruined. In fact, they had risen. And acquired weapons. A skeleton wielding a sharpened rib bone. A jack-o-lantern with a ball of fire building up behind its carved face. A headless scarecrow with rope. The stood still. As if they were watching. Planning. But that was ridiculous, wasn't it?

"Jude." She whispered, more like a question than anything else. "Remember how you mentioned our combined propensity for finding ourselves in unlikely situations?"

She gripped onto his waist and forced him to spin around so that he shared her view. "Well... What's the most unlikely thing you can think of?"

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Jude McFadyen
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This definitely hadn’t been one of his better ideas.

The longer Jude stood there, anchored behind Calleigh’s form, the clearer the realization became. His entire body thrummed with her nearness, a slow, pulsing surge that took over too many senses at once, made him feel lightheaded, punch-drunk, dazed. Muted, at first, but growing increasingly stronger, increasingly harder to ignore. It was getting to the point where he couldn’t even remember what they were doing, or why they were down here in the first place, or what had led to such an intimate lack of space between his chest and the gentle slope of her back.

He needed to move. Moving would help. Breathing air that wasn’t intoxicatingly infused with her. It was addling his brain, that’s all. One step, and the sensible part of him would flood back, the danger would pass, and he wouldn’t be thinking about doing something incredibly stupid, like—

Like what?

Thank bloody Merlin Calleigh lurched away from him before he could answer that thought.

Relief was instant. He blinked away his clouded vision, feeling his head start to clear, slowly becoming aware of her laughter as it echoed off the walls around them. And only then did really he notice how taut he’d become – a far cry from his usual relaxed composure – but unlike the thoughts that had threatened to take over all of his rational impulses, this new tension didn’t seem quite as obliged to leave. Even after she’d broken all contact with him. Stubbornly, implacably, it stuck.

Which would have been a lot more troubling if it didn’t actually end up saving his neck about two seconds later. Literally.

Because Calleigh had hardly taken a full step away from him before she slipped on something, sword in hand, and flew with astonishing speed straight into a nearby shelf. Luckily, all that built up tightness in Jude’s stature already had him coiled like a ready spring, which was probably the only reason he was able to duck in time to avoid the huge jug that went sailing right over his head a split-second later.

It hit the wall behind him with a crash so violent it made him wince. That one definitely would have knocked a few teeth out.

Maybe he’d spoken a bit too soon with that whole ‘better than Sebastian’ thing.

For some reason, all it made him want to do (after the initial shock of his almost-beheading wore off, anyway) was laugh. He almost did. The urge was right in the back of his throat, ready to come out the moment he straightened again, but a flurry of rushed movement and the sudden feel of two small hands cupping his cheeks stopped him abruptly short. He stilled beneath the contact, laugh forgotten as his gaze met Calleigh’s worried one.

She looked inordinately guilty. Her hazel stare flitted everywhere, hummingbird-swift as it scoured his features for what he assumed were injuries, the small edge of a frown weighing down the corners of her lips. Really it should have been him inquiring after her well-being after that stumble she’d taken, but – yet again – he found himself quite incapable of lucid thought, much less speech. There was only sensation now. The curve of her palms against his skin. Warm. Delicate. Impossibly gentle. Her skirt brushing his knees. Intimate. Close.

"I'm so sorry, Jude.” Her eyes settled on his, brow creasing penitently. “I just... I really don't think it's a good idea for us to be in places alone together." Her cheeks colored as she let out a fluttery laugh, clearly embarrassed. "You make me so... I don't know...I act like a complete knob around you."

He was starting to think the feeling was mutual. How could he not when her proximity alone was enough to make him tongue-tied? Fog up his head? No, they definitely shouldn’t be in places alone together. It was stupid, wrong, dangerous—and not in the ‘death is likely imminent’ kind of way, either, even though that seemed to be a staple with them at this point. More in the ‘keep holding my face like that, and I'm going to kiss you soon’ kind of way.

Oh, hell.

No. No, she was Sebastian’s sister. He couldn’t… he didn’t… He should say something. Take his eyes off her lips. Fill the quiet that seemed to be getting thicker by the moment.

He opened his mouth. “Calleigh, I—”

But her hands fell away, and her eyes strayed from him, distracted by something, widening slightly. Jude saw the shift in her expression and immediately furrowed his brows in concern, voice falling away to silence. Inner dilemma momentarily diverted.

“Jude.” It was barely a whisper. Why was she whispering? “Remember how you mentioned our combined propensity for finding ourselves in unlikely situations?”

His perusal of her turned wary. “Vaguely,” he answered. Utterly perplexed.

Until she gripped his waist and spun him around in one deft motion, that is. After that, everything started to make perfect, peachy sense.

"Well... What's the most unlikely thing you can think of?"

He stared. Blinked. Paled slightly.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Bloody hell…” he breathed.

There was no way he was seeing this right now. One day off. He couldn’t have one day off? Hadn’t he already filled his absurdity quota for the night with that whole Great Monster Book Chase debacle back in the dorms? Hell, even that had been less ludicrous than this. This was like some bad set-up for a joke. A skeleton, a jack-o-lantern, and a scarecrow walk into a bar…

… and use their collection of fun, makeshift weapons to murder two students in the basement.

Hilarious.

Why did this always happen to them? If this kept up any longer Jude was going to start thinking Seb was some kind of evil mastermind planning these things from the sidelines. Brotherly sabotage. Although, that hypothesis did involve the words “mastermind” and “planning,” so… maybe not. Seb was more of a charge right in and knock your lights out kind of bloke.

What a nice, comforting thought to be having at a time like this.

Focus. He needed to focus. Especially now that the… whatever they were… seemed to be edging closer. Unused decorations? Had to be. Jude took in the dark stain on the far wall, the broken shards of glass littering the floor… whatever had been in that jug had animated them somehow. Swiftly, he turned his attention toward the staircase, judging the distance.

Fight or flight? Any other time it probably wouldn’t even be a question, but Calleigh was here, they had little in the way of weapons, and she’d proven she was likely much better off staying far, far away from those anyway. Hell, he hadn’t even thought to bring his wand tonight. It was a dance, for Merlin’s sake; never in a million years would he have thought he’d end up actually needing the bloody thing. Obviously a rookie mistake. The fact that he was Jude (who trouble followed around like a lost, needy, disturbingly vicious puppy) should have been reason enough. You’d think he’d have learned that by now. Clearly not.

Right. Flight it was.

“Time to go,” he announced, snatching Calleigh’s hand and swiveling decisively towards the exit. But he’d hardly taken one ground-covering stride before the satanic looking pumpkin swooped in to cut them off, blocking the stairs with its fixed grin and fire-lit features. Jude halted so abruptly he felt Calleigh collide with his back.

Not good.

The sword, then. Calleigh had dropped it nearby, hadn’t she? If he could get to that, he could cut the buggers in half. Wouldn’t be hard. The scarecrow was straw, the pumpkin was a fruit, for fuck’s sake, and the… well, okay, the skeleton actually had him worried a bit, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. First thing’s first…

“Back,” he told Calleigh, guiding her behind him as they slowly retreated. Jude was hyper-alert, attention fixed ahead, knowing how pivotal it would be to keep all three of their pursuers in his line of vision. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done when those pursuers seemed more and more intent on spreading out as they cornered them. Again: not good.

His foot hit something. Thank Merlin. Relieved and dexterously quick, Jude bent to retrieve the fallen sword, wielding it in a firm hand just as Mr. Scarecrow began swinging the end of his rope around in a manner that was more than just a little intimidating. Had he mentioned how not good this was?

Gripping the blade a little tighter, Jude chanced an impossibly brief, measuring glance over his shoulder at the shelves that loomed behind them.

“Don’t suppose there’s a bottle labeled ‘Deirdre’s Delightful De-Animation Draught’ back there, or anything, is there?” he wondered, attempting a mild tone even though it was impossible to keep the strain out entirely. “Because that might come in a bit handy right about now…”
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Calleigh Bancroft
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Halloween decorations come to life. Because, obviously, the magical world had to prove that it, in fact, had a lot of things that could do great bodily harm to anyone that didn’t believe in reanimation and horror movies come to life. She thought she saw this one, once, with Sebastian. He had a thing about muggle horror movies, especially the cheesy ones where things like this happened. And she knew, too, that it was always the pretty girl that got sliced up first. And the hero was always left alone to suffer the fateful consequences of a deranged serial killer. Of course, the hero was Jude. What else would he be?

“Bloody hell…” When Jude’s voice was as surprised as she felt, there was a jolt in the pit of her stomach. Maybe she really would be the dead damsel tonight.

“They… they’re sort of…lurching toward us…” Calleigh said in a faint whisper, as if saying it would make them all disappear. A scarecrow. A pumpkin. And her worst dream as a child: an animated skeleton.

“Time to go,” Jude stated in a way that was almost humorous if it hadn’t been for the striking danger that faced them.

He grabbed her hand and she didn’t feel anything apart from sheer panic. If he was this worried about a couple of decorations, then perhaps there was real reason to worry. Wasn’t he supposed to be the calm, collected one? They made their way toward the stairs, but the pumpkin was there (how odd a sentence…). She didn’t even realize that Jude had stopped moving until she crashed into him and sort of bounced off of his back.

Jude turned and moved forward. “Back,” he commanded as he moved her to the place he wanted her to be. Her hand gripped his side, unwaveringly clenching his taut waist through his shirt. At least he was a hero and not one of those people that would throw her to the bloodthirsty killers to save their own skin. Kind of a good trait to have.

Calleigh’s could feel three wooden boards at her back, each in a different place. She was positively as far back as she could get without sinking straight through the wall. Of course, now was a time when she wished vehemently that she could find a secret passageway – even if it was in Silas’s house. Yeah. Desperate.

She caught Jude’s worried glance as he peered back at her, or rather, what was behind her. “Don’t suppose there’s a bottle labeled ‘Deirdre’s Delightful De-Animation Draught’ back there, or anything, is there? Because that might come in a bit handy right now…”

Everything that was bound up tight inside of her clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a bottle of Deirdre’s Delightful De-Animation Draught behind her. In fact, she was so bloody excited by the possibility that she practically threw Jude’s shirt at his side, spun around and begun plucking bottles from the shelf and throwing them over her shoulder.

“Bronner’s Bone-If-Eyed Blurred Vision Correction,” she whispered hoarsely, throwing it to the ground. It broke open just before she reached for the next. “Corkie’s Corrosive Cooking Concoction.” Smash. “Lydia’s Language Enhancer…” Crack.

“Oooooohhhhh, blood. Mmm, the taste of humans.” Calleigh heard coming from behind her, and she knew that it wasn’t Jude. She spun around, wide eyed and absolutely terrified to see the Scarecrow wobbling closer and Jude swiveling his sword in defense. “Arrrgggghhhhmmmmmm…”

“Please tell me that that thing did not just talk. About eating us.” Because nothing was more frightening than cannibal scarecrows. “Jude! The skeleton!” Calleigh shrieked at the top of her lungs, directly into Jude’s ear.

The sight of the skeleton advancing on Jude with a (albeit, plastic) sword, scared the hell out of her. She turned around again, desperately searching for the de-animation draught.

“Do you know what color bottle it’s in?” That would narrow down her search… “Destructive- Hey! These are in alphabetical order! – Ah!”

Calleigh plucked a hot pink vial from its place on the shelf labeled Deirdre’s Delightful De-Animation Draught and twisted very happily back around. But, Jude wasn’t behind her anymore… he was being – it looked like hugged? – by the scarecrow. His sword was pushed through the straw of its chest…

The skeleton wasn’t focused on her – how did that happen? – and was instead making its way over to the center of the room where Jude was struggling to break free from the scarecrow and the looming pumpkin.

“I got it, I got it!” Calleigh shouted as she ran toward Jude. She slipped, however, and fell over. The bottle jumped from her hand and rolled a few paces away onto the floor.

When she opened her eyes after the fall, there was a decrepit looking skeleton standing over her with its unhinged jaw and wonky bones. She screamed loud and kicked at its legs. When it jerked away, she glanced left and right for the little pink vial that could save their lives.

The skeleton leaned over her once again and she reached up and smacked it in the face. That only proved to hurt her more. But her survival instincts had kicked into overdrive. She was now punching and kicking and screeching and flailing just to get the damn thing away from her.

“Jude – the vial…” she grunted as the skeleton began hitting her with the plastic sword, “it’s on the floor… over… on your right.”
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Jude McFadyen
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Inanimate objects (particularly those with faces) should not be allowed to spring unexpectedly to life. That should probably just be a general rule, you know? Part of life’s built-in guidelines. One helpful little thing to make your experience here on Earth a little less traumatizing. ‘Well, you’ll have to deal with natural disasters, illnesses, crushed dreams, and death, but at least you won’t ever have to fight off a macabre trio of satanic-looking, re-animated, Halloween decorations!’

Bollocks.

This is why he hated puppets. Were there actually people who thought those things were charming? Funny? They were bloody creepy, is what they were, and also the reason why ‘ventriloquist’ had always ranked near the very bottom of his What I Want to Be When I Grow Up list. Right alongside ‘accountant’ and ‘janitor.’

‘Course, this was a list that had been made when he was about seven or so, so the top spots belonged to things like ‘pirate’ and ‘dragon slayer’…

Actually, now that he thought about it, the thing probably hadn’t changed much since then.

Crash!

Jude jumped, startled by the unexpected sound of shattering glass. Behind him, he could hear Calleigh muttering frantically under her breath, her skirt making soft swishing noises as she shifted nervously on her feet.

“Corkie’s Corrosive Cooking Concoction.” Crash! “Lydia’s Language Enhancer…” Crash!

“Whoa!” He jerked to the side. That last one barely missed his head. “Easy, Bancroft,” he warned lightly over his shoulder, trying to resist the urge to turn and watch her progress. “I know girls think blokes who speak French are sexy and all, but now’s probably not the best time for me to start babbling in an entirely different language. Remind me later, and I’ll give it a go, eh?”

Provided they actually lived, of course.

At least it hadn’t hit the pumpkin. Thank Merlin these things couldn’t sp—

“Oooooohhhhh, blood. Mmm, the taste of humans.

Jude froze in wide-eyed panic. “Oh, shit.”

The damned thing had stepped right into the small puddle of spilled liquid. He hadn’t even thought to worry about that. Now they had to deal with a talking scarecrow apparently out for their blood.

He really could have done without that particular bit of knowledge.

“Arrrgggghhhhmmmmmm…” the thing moaned, its straw mouth gaping wide.

Calleigh gave a responding sharp little intake of breath. “Please tell me that that thing did not just talk. About eating us.”

Jude tensed as he gripped the sword in his hands just a little tighter, raising it defensively, never once taking his eyes off the threat in front of him. “I’m a bit more disturbed by the fact that it seems to already find the ‘taste of humans’ a delicacy, to be completely honest.”

All these years, and he thought the supposed Shrieking Shack ghost was the one eating unsuspecting children. Clearly, he’d been mistaken.

“I’m never having a pint here again. Because if this isn’t a perfectly reasonable cause for a boycott, I don’t know what—”

“Jude! The skeleton!” Calleigh screamed in his ear.

He barely blocked in time. Alright, yes, the incoming attack had come in the form of a slashed plastic sword, but it was an animated skeleton doing the attacking, and the thing was ten times faster than it had originally led Jude to believe, what with all that slow, menacing lurching it’d been doing up till this point. Which meant it probably had the ability to strategize.

Which was bloody terrifying.

“Sodding hell!” Jude cursed, swiping his own weapon to fend off yet another lightning-swift jab. How was it even managing to hold onto that flimsy plastic thing? The bastard had a grip like rigor-mortised corp—

Oh. Never mind. Made sense now.

“Do you know what color bottle it’s in?” Calleigh called out hurriedly, panic lending a higher pitch to her already anxious tone.

Jude swiped again, missed, then gave a vicious kick that sent the skeleton stumbling back a few steps. “What?” he half-turned, distracted and at an utter loss as to what she was talking about for a second.

Big mistake.

“Bloooooood!” the scarecrow hissed as it leapt on his back. Out of nowhere.

Argh!” Swearing and struggling, Jude tried to free himself from the thing’s leech-like grip around his neck. It didn’t help that every tug and violent movement seemed to only cause the scarecrow to lose little tufts of straw and didn’t appear to impede upon its bizarre strength or determination whatsoever. Even when Jude did manage to extricate himself from its lethal hold, it just kept coming at him, launching forward, entirely undaunted by Jude’s one and only mode of defense at the moment—his sword.

The weapon went straight through the straw. The only difference now was that Jude was being strangled from the front. Not the back.

Fantastic.

“Destructive—Hey! These are in alphabetical order!”

Yay,” Jude wheezed happily, because it wasn’t like he was in peril or anything.

“Ah!” he heard Calleigh cry. Hopefully out of triumph. He really didn’t want to die a straw-y death. Talk about embarrassing. The Merry Men would never forgive him.

“I got it, I got it!” she verified joyously, much to Jude’s enormous relief. He’d only just managed to twist out of the scarecrow’s clutches, but naturally that didn’t deter the bugger any. Also, the damn pumpkin had decided it finally wanted to have a go, too, so not only was Jude slashing his sword any chance he could get, he was also ducking like a maniac every time the diabolically grinning jack-o-lantern swooped down to try and set his hair on fire.

“Toss it!” Jude cried, taking a risk and turning with an outstretched hand, ready to pluck the vial from the air as quickly as he possibly could.

But Calleigh’s skirts didn’t appear to be made with running in mind, and she tripped the second she took one desperate step in his direction. The vial went flying, skittering across the floor, and Jude didn’t have time to come to her aid, or even see where the little glass container landed, because already he had to spin back around again, forced to defend himself from another double attack. Every time the scarecrow lurched towards him, the pumpkin would dive for his head. If he didn’t get a good hit in soon—

Wait. What if he…

Thinking fast, Jude maneuvered himself so that he was directly in between his two assailants, waiting for the scarecrow to swipe, and then, when the pumpkin had just begun its dive, he ducked, fast, just barely in time to escape the hit. As expected, the scarecrow hadn’t been quite as swift or nearly as lucky, and the two animated beings collided so violently the pumpkin broke apart into several orange wedges that fell with a satisfying squelching sound right at Jude’s feet.

He straightened with a proud grin. One that probably would have remained in place a bit longer had a new, alarming development not come to his immediate attention.

Because unlike the pumpkin, the scarecrow had somehow managed to remain perfectly intact.

Only now it was also on fire.

Jude paled. Grin gone. “Uh oh.”

Fuck. Bad idea. Bad idea.

“Jude – the vial…” Calleigh’s desperate voice sounded behind him, strained and urgent. “It’s on the floor… over… on your right.”

His right. He swiveled quickly, eyes sweeping the floor, and—there! A glint of pink. A flickering glint, if he wanted to be accurate about it, but he didn’t like the idea of giving his mind time to dwell on the implications of ‘flickering’ and how often that word was associated with fire.

Mainly, he just wanted to survive the night.

Which was why he wasted no time in diving ahead, whip-quick as he slid the last few feet to snatch the glass up from the floor milliseconds before one flaming arm swiped viciously at him, sending burning bits of straw raining down on his head and shoulders. He didn’t even flinch; too adrenaline-filled and desperate as one economic movement un-stoppered the vial in his hand, and another flung a good half of its contents directly into the scarecrow’s horrific, fiery face.

A dread-filled second passed. Jude held his breath.

And then the scarecrow crumpled to a lifeless, smoldering heap at his feet.

Jude let the air back out of his lungs in one enormously relieved rush. “Thank god.”

Wait.

The skeleton. Where was the skeleton?

Oh, hell. Calleigh.

He whirled, vial gripped tightly in hand, and spotted them immediately – Calleigh, on the floor near the shelves, frantically trying to fight off the aggressively attacking skeleton with all the kicks and punches at her disposal. Jude didn’t even need to think after that. It was instant, how he sprinted to the duo, not even pausing before he dove, tackling the skeleton round the middle until they were a tangled mess of fighting limbs on the ground a few feet away.

Argh – hold still, you – ow!” Jude grunted, teeth grit in concentration as he shoved away one bony hand before it could wrap around his throat. Between his fingers, the liquid in the vial sloshed violently, a few drops splashing harmlessly to the floor, but he raised it high, steadying it again as best he could, and when a well-placed kick sent the skeleton rolling, he took advantage of the brief reprieve and tossed the potion with all his strength.

It hit him right in his stupid, grinning skull-head.

And then it moved no more.

Jude stared at it silently for a moment, panting hard… and unceremoniously collapsed on his stomach, boneless, arms splayed wide in haphazard exhaustion across the dirty floor.

His suit was ruined anyway. Not like it mattered. Why he’d even bothered getting dressed up for something, he’d no idea.

Peeking out from behind a tawny, straw-filled lock of hair, he opened one eye and settled it on the nearby Calleigh, too overexerted to do much else at the moment. She looked just as relieved as he did, he noted, and after a few beats of his slowly steadying heart, he finally managed to muster up a tiny half-grin. Then, in a tone still scratchy with post-battle gruffness, he broke the silence with four simple words.

“Très bien, mademoiselle, no?”

Obviously overexertion didn’t apply to cheek.
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Calleigh Bancroft
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One moment, Calleigh was lying on the ground in her beautiful, one of a kind, silk dress robes, being attacked by a talking animated skeleton and the next she was lying on the ground motionless as the skeleton was tackled to the ground. Her feet stopped jerking around, her arms fell to her sides. She pushed herself up on her elbows and turned her head to watch Jude wrestle what would probably come to be the object of her nightmares.

Jude growled at the skeleton, called it names, swore uncouthly as it tried to strangle him and bite him. Calleigh jumped from the ground and swiveled around looking for something that she could use to help Jude. A plastic sword just wouldn’t do it. A large plank of wood might at least cause it to lose a few bones.

She rushed toward the wood and lifted it easily over her head. Must have been the adrenaline. Something she was all too familiar with when Jude was around. Calleigh was running purely on instinct as she spun around, intent on plowing the skeleton with the wooden plank. It was unnecessary, however, because the bones were lying on the ground unmoving. Problem solved.

Glancing down to Jude who was spread eagle on the ground with only his head lifted. She raised an eyebrow and tossed her bit of wood to the side. It figured that just as she was about to add something useful to the “battle,” things were already taken care of. Sighing, her shoulders rose and fell slowly.

Battle animated Halloween costumes or face Gilbert Schook? Which way would she prefer to spend her Halloween evening? The answer came far too easily. With Jude.

She tore her eyes away from his smile and stared at the ground next to his body instead. Luckily, her face was still bright red from her fight with the decorations and so her blush wasn’t easily noticed. That was it then? She fancied Jude.

And her answering thought startled her further. Who wouldn’t fancy Jude? He was dashing in a rogue sort of way. His hair was mildly ridiculous in its haphazard style all over his head, but it was endearing more than annoying like Sebastian’s. His smile was enough to send tingles down her spine. His voice incited a mad rush of … something… through her body. Why didn’t she see it before? Probably all that mortal peril they had gotten themselves involved in. Totally blinded her.

But now she saw.

“Très bien, mademoiselle, no?” He said, pulling her from her thoughts, bringing her eyes back to his.

Oh, bugger.

“Non,” she responded in a mildly panicked voice automatically, voice hitched in her tight chest.

These were most definitely not the things that should attract you to a bloke. Wasn’t there supposed to be flowers and chocolates and dates and non-life threatening situations before someone could feel so, so… attracted to another person? Was there something wrong with her? Adrenaline junky?

Her pitch reached high proportions as she began to pace. “Not good at all. Darkened, abandoned, cursed tunnels. Vengeful suits of armor chasing us throughout the castle. Animated Halloween décor. No, no it’s not good.”

Gnawing on her lip to provide distraction while she thought, Calleigh mumbled incoherent words to herself. Shock, perhaps? Shock due to sword fighting a pumpkin, or shock because she just realized how handsome her brother’s best mate was?

She paused and stared at Jude who was still lying on the ground, watching her. Moments passed where Calleigh said nothing at all, just stared at him. Silent questions flew through her mind. What did this mean? How did she act normally? Why were they still down in this tomb of crazed costumes? Did he… feel the same way?

And then her vanity took over. Her hair was matted to her head. Her dress was covered in grime and soot. She looked like she’d been dragged through a dungeon. Calleigh’s hazel eyes grew wider. She swallowed hard.

Bugger.

Closing the short distance between herself and Jude, she leaned down and grabbed his hand, tugging on him until he began to stand up. Then she promptly dropped his hand. It was hard to look him in the eyes. Like he might see something in them that he shouldn’t.

“I need the ladies’,” she said meekly, averting her eyes once again. “And a drink. And a shower. And a change of clothes. We should get out of here.”

There was no doubt in her mind that their friends were looking for them. She only hoped that since they were locked in the basement, there was another way out.

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