Page 46 of Fixing the Grumpy Pumpkin King
“Yo! What’s up, dude? Man, it’s been forever! What do you need? If it's another pity party then you can stuff it!”
“I need you to get them out of my way. I need to get to the basement. Don’t hurt them, just...move them.”
Ghosty cracked his knuckles. “You got it, boss man.”
The familiars shifted into fighting stances.
“We really don’t want to do this,” Bramble said quietly.
“Then don’t,” Locke pleaded. “Just let me through.”
“Can’t do that,” Russet said, flames already flickering at his paws. “We serve Lord Mabon first.”
Pip launched himself at Locke, earth magic sending tremors through the floorboards. Locke stumbled. Ghosty reacted instantly, yanking a decorative suit of armor from the corner and sending it sliding between Pip and Locke.
“Dude, personal space!” Ghosty called out.
Bramble’s vines erupted from the walls, reaching for Locke’s ankles. Ghosty ripped a painting off the wall and used it as a shield, the canvas shredding as thorns punched through.
“Hey, that was probably expensive!” Ghosty complained, tossing the ruined frame aside.
Locke dodged left, heading for the door. Russet shot a warning fireball that scorched the floor in front of him. Too close. Locke jumped back.
“I said don’t hurt him!” Bramble snapped at Russet.
“I’m not! I’m just stopping him!”
Ghosty grabbed a fake skeleton prop and hurled it at Russet, who batted it away with his tail. The bones clattered across the floor. Pip used the distraction to send a chunk of floor tile flying at Locke’s head. Ghosty caught it mid-air, momentum reversing, sending it back.
“Yo, this is not cool!” Ghosty dove in front of Locke, arms spread wide. “The dude just wants to talk to his boyfriend and be all kissy face at him!”
“He hurt Lord Mabon!” Pip shot back, earth rippling under Ghosty’s feet. But Ghosty was already floating, incorporeal when he needed to be.
The fight escalated. Bramble’s vines tried to trap Locke in a cage of thorns. Ghosty ripped open a ceiling panel, dropping insulation and wiring that tangled the vines instead. Russet’s flames licked higher, catching on decorations. Pip created fissures in the floor, trying to cut off paths to the basement door.
Locke kept moving, dodging, pushing forward. He was close. So close to the door.
Russet panicked. Saw Locke’s hand reaching for the doorknob. Did the math wrong on distance and power and desperation.
Threw a fireball.
Too much. Too fast. Too strong.
Heading straight for Locke’s chest.
“STOP!”
Jack’s voice boomed through the house, shaking the walls, rattling windows. The fireball dissipated mid-air, snuffed out like a candle. Everything froze. The familiars went rigid, ears back, tails tucked.
“Do NOT hurt him!”
The command echoed. Absolute. Protective. Leaving no room for argument.
Locke didn’t wait. He grabbed the basement door, yanked it open, and ran down the stairs.
“Dude, you’re welcome!” Ghosty called after him.
The basement was dark. Cold. The kind of dark that felt intentional.
