“‘Eeeeere kiddie, kiddie, kiddie.”
Casper startles out of his slumber. Myr’s back from wherever he’s been all night. Surprisingly, the monster (if there is one) didn’t eat him; although, given the way Myr smells, maybe it’s not so surprising after all. Guess there’s things even the boogie man won’t touch.
“Come out, come out wherever you are…” Myr lumbers down the main hall with all the subtlety of an elephant. The racket is unignorable in the dead silence that reigns the house at this time of night.
Casper stays very quiet, very still. Myr can't possibly know where he is. He's safe as long as he remains hidden. Myr dithers on the spot before stumbling into the wall that separates the hall from the dining room, that separates him from Casper. Never have the walls felt so paper thin. Casper prays his blanket fortress is sufficient to protect him.
“When I say 'you come out now’, what I means is 'you come the fook out righ’ now’!” Myr roars.
Oh Hell. Capser digs himself deeper beneath his quilts, shoving a pillow over his head for good measure; Myr isn't there if he can't hear him. The added walls of fluff take the edge off of Myr's yelling, but the drunk's still audible.
“You ‘earin’ me you lil’ cunt? I know yer around ‘ere somewhere! There's no gettin’ away from me. I'm gonna find you, an’ when I do...” Myr trails off into ominous laughter.
The fucking peddy-phil. It's decided. Casper is never leaving of his hidey hole. He's going to stay here, where it's safe (for how long?), and he is never coming out again.
“Balor! Get the 'ell over 'ere!”
It dawns on Casper that there is one thing he didn't account for while he was putting together his understanding of how things work in Glenholm: why does Balor, the all mighty witch man on the hill, do what a slovenly pisspot like Myr tells him to? This thought is followed closely by another: Myr, sober or drunk, might not have the brains to find him, but Balor does. Assuming Balor is obliged to follow Myr's orders, which seems to be the case, then Casper is as good as sunk.
“For what reason, dare I ask for it, do you call me at this hour?”
Casper breaks out into goose pimples. It's Balor. Casper would recognize his voice anywhere. That settles that; he's done for.
“Yer gonna fetch the runt. The lil’ rat's sneakin’ aroun’ an’ I dun like it.”
“And what leads you to believe that I would know from whence to fetch him?”
“Tha's why I'm tellin’ you ta GO FIND 'IM! Tha's an order!”
It's quiet for a moment. Neither Balor nor Myr are heard. Casper’s tempted to leave his hideout and press an ear to the wall in case he's missing anything. Then Balor speaks loud enough to be heard clear across the house. “Rest assured, if Casper is anywhere to be found in the building, then I will find him.”
Casper perks up. Balor has to know he's listening in, meaning that message is for him. He's been given an opportunity and he's got an idea how to use it. He equips himself with a small, light blanket, slinging it over his shoulders like a cape, and carefully crawls from his cozy nest. He keeps an ear out on the goings on in the hall, lest someone gets the drop on him, and inches forward on suspenseful tip toes. Balor and Myr exchange more terse words, Myr declaring he’ll be waiting in his study before stomping off elsewhere. If Myr’s ever studied more than the label on a gin bottle, Casper will eat his shoes.
A distant door slams and the night quiet reigns supreme once more. Casper crouches by the door to the main hall and waits and listens for footsteps that make no sound. Balor could be anywhere, right on the other side of the door even, and Casper would be none the wiser. And so he waits and he listens for a break in the nothing he hears.
A door gently sighs open on the other side of the house. Myr’s not one for such subtlety. Best guess says that’s Balor. The coast is clear and Casper creeps into the main hall. He clings to the walls like the other midnight shadows so the creaky floors don’t rat him out. His heart’s beating too loud, the noise is going to get him caught. A few lengthy feet later and he’s made it to the back door. He opens and shuts the door with care and that’s it. He’s home free. He’s safe.
He shambles along the porch and sits heavily against the wall. He spends a well needed moment just to be, just to breathe. It’s cold out here, not much more so than it was on the floor indoors, but, compared to his lovely nest of blankets beneath the table, it’s frigid. He tugs his blanket tighter around him and curls his bare toes. He forgot his shoes. He took them off during the night because they kept getting snagged in the blankets. Well crud.
Casper shakes his head and laughs quietly to himself. After what’s happened- after everything that’s happened to him so far, from being unceremoniously dumped here like garbage to the pickled body parts in the post office and Mr. Smith’s potato sacks full of money, here he is, bemoaning about how he forgot his shoes. He clamps a firm hand over his mouth before he breaks into hysterics.
The moment passes. A slight breeze picks up, cutting into Casper through his thin clothes. The blanket’s nice, but the wind goes right through it. Casper picks himself up and treads through the dew soaked lawn to the glass house, soaking his feet and the cuffs of his trousers. It’s not as warm inside during the night as it is during the day, but it keeps the wind out and the ground is nice and dry. He makes himself comfy between two planters and settles down for the night. He shifts his blanket about. He tries to get some rest. He doesn’t sleep a wink.
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