Chapter Text
Locust was not the one eating Dovetail’s cows, no matter what anyone thought.
Locust had overheard the humans—Jack, of course, and Papa, and the priest, and the retired priest—talking about the concerns with the cows weeks ago. And Locust had taken it upon themself to take care of it. Feral dog didn’t taste very good, but no one was attacking the farmer’s cows anymore, a fact Locust was rather proud of. But no one seemed to notice. All they mentioned was that the cows had been attacked. They hadn’t noticed that it had stopped.
Locust considered explaining, but they weren’t sure there was any point. They weren’t sure about anything.
Jack had summoned them with one purpose: to protect him. To attack those who meant to do him harm. And Locust had done that very well, and eliminated all threats. So now…what was there?
The priests’ ghouls had encouraged them to join their pack. But those ghouls had their own concerns. The unnamed one took care of the priests and the house and kept it tidy. Fluorescence flew through the air, singing to themself, playing and laughing and enjoying their existence. Both of them kept an eye on things, kept the priests and their family and property safe and cared for.
Locust would add nothing to their pack, and knew it. They had been summoned for Jack, and they did their best to keep an eye on things still. But no one needed Locust, and Locust had no desire to be where they weren’t needed.
So Locust wandered the woods at night, and the farms. Sometimes they looked in windows of houses. They watched people eating, and laughing, and fucking, and cuddling, living their lives. They watched for threats against their summoner, just in case, but aside from some grumbling about trans people in general from the Christian church, there was nothing, and even that was not enough to attack and kill.
They wished it was. They wished they could taste blood, yes, but more than that, they wished they could do something, anything.
They should ask to return to the Pit, they thought sometimes.
But whenever they considered it, they thought of the scent of snow in the air. They thought of gliding on their thin, papery wings from one place to another, feeling the cold and wind. They thought of standing in a patch of sun, feeling it warm their gray skin. The formlessness of the Pit offered none of these things, and they weren’t ready to return to it, not yet.
On this night they sat outside the priest’s mansion, listening to everything within.
Jack and the current Papa were in the basement, with those sounds that meant they were making love again. Locust had seen and heard that enough and moved on to another window.
The Dovetail priest and the retired priest were in their shared room on the second floor, where Locust could see through a gap in the curtains.
“I’m not so old that I need a caretaker, diavolina,” the retired one said shortly.
“I never said you did,” said his wife. “But this winter’s been rough. You know it has. Have you thought about moving after all? Somewhere warmer?”
“I don’t see how we can,” he said. “Your church needs you, and you know the Ministry would not send another priest so skilled. And Jack and Perpetua need this house.” His voice softened. “My Eden. Do not worry so much.”
When Locust looked in, his hand cupped the woman’s face, and she leaned into it.
Locust put their own hand against their own face, but it didn’t feel like much. And then the old priest leaned in for a kiss, and Locust opened their wings to find another window.
There was a long-haired man, a bishop, who was happily listening to music on headphones while he looked at his Palm Pilot. Locust liked music, but their hearing wasn’t good enough to make out much, and they neither knew nor cared what he was writing. They tried to sense if the bishop meant Jack any harm, and he did not, nor did he mean Jack anything favorable, nor was he doing anything worth watching, so Locust left to find the last lit room. The curtains here were firmly closed, but they could hear inside.
Frater Imperator, the highest of the clergy, and his quintessence ghoul were there inside. The ghoul spoke in a soft rumble against Frater’s higher voice. It was easy to make out which was which.
“You work too hard,” said the ghoul.
“I’m not even doing anything, Aether,” he said. “Besides, I need to do this. You know I do. There’s no one else who can, really.”
“I don’t mean that,” said the ghoul. “I mean everything else. You won’t let me touch you in front of him.”
Frater Imperator didn’t answer for a long moment. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Don’t be,” said the ghoul. “I understand. I know…I know you want one thing you don’t have to share with the Ministry, and I am happy to be that. But I see what it does to you. To not be able to take solace when it’s offered. And usually when you go to your brothers’ homes you come back relaxed, but you’re as tense as you are at home. I don’t like it.”
“Well, it is what it is,” said Frater Imperator with a sigh. “This is a work visit, not a pleasure visit. Besides, I have a little time before we have to work.”
“True,” said the ghoul, and this time there was a smile to his voice. “And the bishop isn’t here with us right now.”
“You noticed that, too?” said Frater Imperator. “Maybe you should relax me.”
“Maybe I should,” agreed the ghoul.
And then there were sounds of kissing, and the soft rustle of clothing being removed. Locust sat in the window, legs dangling, listening to Aether’s low murmur, to Frater Imperator’s answering whine.
“Let me take care of you,” Aether murmured.
“You always do,” came Frater Imperator’s voice, punctuated with heavy breathing. “Fuck—fuck. Right there—”
Locust put their hand on their cheek again, and wondered what the touch of someone else felt like. They wondered what it felt like to be taken care of. But they didn’t think they would ever know.
They had been summoned for one purpose, and they had fulfilled it. And now they lingered in this world, unwilling to go back to the Pit and its formlessness, and wondered if their existence here on Earth was really so different at all.