Chapter Text
The witch tilted her head back and smirked, her eyes half-lidded and dark with contempt.
"You must be truly desperate to turn to us in your hour of need," Lilith said, mockingly.
"Yes," Nandor said, flatly. "It was you or super-slumber."
Lilith's look of amused scorn vanished, replaced by shock and then--to Nandor's surprise--concern.
"Oh," she said. "That is serious."
"Yes."
"Right. Okay. What's wrong?"
"What isn't wrong?" he replied, gloomily. "I am tired. And I am tired of being tired. I am tired of being alive. Nothing means anything anymore. Nothing matters."
"And you want me to...?"
"You are a witch! Use magic to make me happy again. Or at least to make me stop being sad."
"I could," Lilith said, in a voice that did not get his hopes up. "But you wouldn't be able to feel anything but happy. It's one of those 'be careful what you wish for' spells we use to fuck with the humans."
"Oh. So...you cannot help."
"I didn't say that!" Lilith drummed her fingers on the counter, thinking. "I think I have something. Come with me." She stepped out from behind the counter and disappeared behind the curtain into the back of the store.
Nandor didn't move. He remembered where the ceremony room was.
Lilith stuck her head back in and gave him an exasperated look.
"We get regular deliveries of your semen at zero effort on our part," she said. "I'm not about to shoot the cow, am I? Come on."
He still felt uncertain, but he followed her anyway.
The hallway in the back was dimly lit and smelled strongly of incense, but not in a bad way. He followed Lilith closely, nervous about losing his way in this den of witches. She took him into a small room that was lined floor to ceiling with shelves. Each shelf was stocked with small bottles of different shapes, sizes, and colors. The only thing they had in common was the faint glow each gave off.
"Pretty," he said.
"Thank you," Lilith said, sounding genuinely pleased. "These are potions of perspective. Each one will give you a dream that will show you your life in a new light. This one shows you how the world would look if you had never been born. This one shows you what would happen if you died. But I am going to give you this one."
The bottle was small enough that he could hide it in his fist, and made of clear glass, with a stopper shaped like a diamond. The contents were a deep, rich purple, like a ripe plum. He couldn't tell if what was it was smoke or liquid, but it swirled in the container even though Lilith's hand was very still. He took it and tilted it this way and that, making the contents swirl faster. The light caught a cursive uppercase 'L' that had been carved into the side of the bottle.
When Lilith did not elaborate, he said "What does this one do?"
"This one shows you what you need to be happy. Not--and this is important--not what you want."
"What is the difference?" he asked, dragging his eyes away from the bottle.
"What we want and what we need are usually very different. Half the middle-aged women who come in here want a headache cure, but what they need is a divorce. You want to be happy, but what you think will make you happy might not actually do you any good."
"How is making me look at a world where I am happy going to make me feel better?" he demanded. "It is just going to make it worse!"
"You don't want to go into superslumber. You want things to be different, but you don’t know how. This will give you an idea. The dream isn't prophetic. It's not a vision of the future. You might not be able to get everything you see. But it's going to give you a place to start."
Still Nandor hesitated.
"What do you ask in return?"
"On the house," she said. Then, correctly interpreting his expression, added "No charge. Guillermo likes you, and we like Guillermo."
"You do?" he said, surprised.
"Everybody likes Guillermo," she said, surprised at his surprise. "Don't you?"
"Of course I like Guillermo! What kind of a question is that?" Then, remembering that he was probably going to owe this woman quite a lot, muttered "Thank you."
She gave him a beatific, albeit slightly condescending, nod.
"Tonight, when you get in your coffin, open the bottle and take a deep breath. You will fall into the dream. Let it carry you. You can wake yourself up, but don't try to fight the dream--if you want to get the most out of it, you have to let the dream show you what it wants you to see. Also it'll give you a three day migraine. Do you understand?"
"Yes," he said. Then, again, "Thank you."
"You are very welcome. Now get out, we close in ten. Tell Memo we said hallo."
Nandor did not tell Guillermo the witches said hello. He didn't tell anyone where he had been. He would rather--well, there were a lot of things he would rather do than admit to anyone he went to the witches for help. The bottle weighed heavily in his pocket all night, and he wasn't sure if he felt more guilty or embarrassed.
What would it show him, he wondered as he lay back in his coffin. What would he see? Would it do what Lilith had promised, or was it just another trick?
"Master?"
Nandor blinked and twisted his head to look up at Guillermo, who was looking down at him, hand on the coffin lid but not bringing it down.
"Yes?" Nandor prompted, when Guillermo said nothing more.
"I'm...I'm really glad you're back," Guillermo said. "And I'm glad you're feeling better."
"Thank you," Nandor said, even though he wasn't feeling better.
But I will soon, he thought, when Guillermo beamed at him. I hope.
Then his familiar closed the lid, and Nandor was alone in the dark. He waited while Guillermo puttered around the room, blowing out candles and neatening up. He wasn't sure what would happen, but he didn't want Guillermo around when it did.
Finally, the door closed.
Nandor slid a hand into his pocket and pulled out the bottle. The inside of the coffin was lit up by the faint purple glow. He tilted the bottle this way and that, watching the contents swirl and sparkle, and wondered if he was nervous or worried. Nandor took hold of the top of the bottle and pulled. It came free with a small pop.
The color within poured out like smoke, pressing against the sides of the coffin and curling around his face. He took a deep, deep breath. It smelled like lavender and ash, not overpowering but strong enough to make him feel dizzy.
Nandor managed to recork the bottle, and then he was sliding backwards into the smoke, like submerging in a warm bath, the darkness rising up over his head in a warm embrace.