FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Cooo-eeee!"

"He's been turned into a vegetable. A grey vegetable at that. I wouldn't want him in MY stew!"

"Where's my chunk of sapphire? That's what I need! Oh, which flipping pocket is it in? Here, hold this, Anar, get some clarity, mate, follow my voice, come back to us."

"Stay where you are, in cuckoo land! We'll have your Walkman and tapes!"

"Rave! Stop it, the poor dear's been traumatised! Look at him! Anar? Anar, are you ok? Come on, let's get you to the café. Nice cup of tea will see you right..."

He blinked. White spots filled his vision; blindingly bright twinkling lights followed him as he walked unsteadily.

His head was full of static. His mouth was dry.

Anar didn't recall leaving Master Leviathan's office, nor exactly what transpired in there. He'd been in trouble for thumping Crowley again, this time in front of Hogden, after the snide human had made remarks about his family.

Then Rave had been grumbling about hard plastic chairs. Next thing he knew, he was being led away down the corridor with burnt retinas.

Rap's soothing voice, reassuring as ever, was filling his ears as they walked.

"...the whole building was shaking like San Francisco in that one movie where everything was falling down. Honestly wasn't sure how many pieces you'd be in when you got out. I'm just happy you're intact, even if you are a bit spaced-out."

Rave's low grumbling followed. It wasn't clear what he was saying, but 'idiot' was no doubt in there somewhere.

Then another voice came in. Higher, sweeter, concerned' "hot stuff! What happened to you? Are you ok?"

Colours came back to him, and the pale blush tones of Meredith contrasted against blood-red velvet. She was wearing a long, sweeping gown edged with black lace.

Rap stood in front of him, shielding him, arms folded, huffing, "you stay back! He's under some sort of dark incantation. Might be vulnerable and confused. I'll not have you seducing him and consuming his soul!"

"You need to chill out, seriously. He's my sweetheart."

"He is NOT."

Rave interfered, brusquely, "Anar's in love with the lady in the cellar. The History keeper. He took her flowers and everything."

"Exactly!" Rap said, triumphantly. "Wait, didn't she stab him, though? I'm confused."

"Anar got stabbed?! Some familiars you are!!"

"Whoa whoa, hang on a minute, wasn't our fault. Tell her, Anar!" Rave gave him a rough shake at the shoulder.

"I feel sick..." Anar moaned, rocking back and forth at Rave's rough touch.

"You need healing," Rap fussed. "You need herbal tea!"

Meredith wasn't impressed; "I think he needs a break from you two! Anar?"

"Oh, hi, Meredith. I'm not having a great day, today. I decked Crowley again and got sent to Leviathan's office. I'm feeling really confused and my head hurts. Any chance of a toasted teacake?"

The succubus barged past the protective raptors, tugged the aardvark's sleeve while glaring at them and their incompetence, and pulled him away into the student cafeteria.

"It wasn't our fault he got stabbed! Was it?"

"Yes, Rave, it was. We let him go off by himself."

"Oh."

"Oh, indeed. We haven't been very good friends."

"Is... is he really going out with a sucky?"

Rap nonchalantly slid onto a bench, nosing over at his friend and the strange girl he was with on the other side of the room. He sniffed, "sure looks like it."

"He's such an idiot."

Rap nodded, "he's our idiot."

Rave wasn't so sure. He could take him or leave him. Idiots were a dime a dozen in the future, it seemed.

"Are you really going to sit and spy on him? We've got Sky back in the room."

"Anar's room, you mean? On his telly?" Rap asked, pointedly.

"Well, yeah, ok he's good for some things I guess."

"Never forgive myself if I let a wily lass like that devour his soul."

Rave wrinkled his scaly forehead, "don't they eat normal food, like bacon sandwiches?"

"I don't think so. They have immortality as long as they devour souls. That's why they're so..." he gestured vaguely, "pretty."

"Ew."

Rap folded his arms, "I don't see it, neither. But Anar's fallen big time. He'll need us, when it all goes wrong. Just you watch."

Rave was surprised, "you don't think it'll work out? I suppose you've read his palm, read his tarot, can see his future, yeah?"

Rap chewed his lip, "it was all over the place. His lifeline was all creased and did a loop. His cards contradicted themselves big time. If I didn't know better, I'd think... anyway, doesn't matter, does it? She's going to hurt him at some point; succubi aren't loyal. They can't be. One soul for eternity? Pfff."

"Yeah," agreed Rave, not understanding half of what his lifemate had just said. "Pfff."

"You got any change for toast?"

"No. I got nuffin'."

"Darn." Rap's talons drummed on the tabletop.

He watched the goth girl kissing his best friend, practically sat on his lap, tugging at his cloak collar.

"I'm not having this," he snapped. "I'm putting my foot down!"

Rave raised his head, looking shocked; this was unusual behaviour from Rap, that was for sure! It was usually him throwing his weight around and being a nuisance.

Rap click clacked over the messy floor, side stepping napkins and crumbs.

"That's quite enough!" he shrilled, hands on bony hips, "you've had your fun, it's time for work now!"

Anar opened an eye, the pale grey iris widening at the sight of a miffed Rap.

"Wot?"

Meredith rolled her eyes, shaking her hair with a flick of the wrist. "Honestly, anyone would think you fancy him more than I do!"

"Meredith's alright, mate, she's sound, yeah? I'm still in one piece. Intact. She hasn't hurt me."

"Yet!" Rap snapped. "You've got a whole page to do on your item," he nodded his head, not wanting to say 'dragon scale', "a magical usage form to fill out, and you need to get your sorry butt down to laundry so you've got a clean jumper and jeans for Hallowe'en! You're already in trouble with the headmaster and you said you wanted to do well to please... him, so up you pop! No more of this getting off with suspicious enchantresses thing!"

With an exaggerated sigh, the elfin beauty slipped down off Anar's knee and smoothed out her velvet dress. "See you around," she waved, and with a totter of heels she was gone.

Rave appeared, rubbing his claws, "great! Big ears is all better, we can get some food now!"

Anar lunged, furious, "is that all I'm good for? Really?"

"Oh yeah? Come on, big guy, I'll have you!" Rave squared up, his terrible teeth glistening, his thick tail thrashing.

Rap placed himself in the middle, playing peacekeeper as always. "You can't go out with a succubus, mate, you just can't! I'm sorry we let you down - shut up, Rave, we did - but you can't let a girl who's making it her career to sleep with guys and eat their souls bewitch you! Who's she gonna be snogging tomorrow, huh? You want to get yourself a nice girl."

"And where am I going to find one of those in the underworld?" Anar pleaded, "just let me have some happiness before I wave bye-bye to the mortal realm, yeah?"

Rap brightened, "maybe we'll meet some girls when we go pumpkin carving? Maybe you'll meet someone if you do your work in the library. I'm good at reading auras, I'll help you find a girlfriend. Anything but a suckie!"

"But she was hot," Anar grumped.

"Of course she was! And half the College probably wants to get in her knickers."

"True," he ceded. Rap was always right. Even if it hurt.

Rave gave his partner a glance, "is he still gonna thump me?'

"I think you're safe, dear."

"Can we get some toast?"

"Wouldn't push your luck."

"Godzilla?"

"Godzilla."

Rave opened his jaws wide and roared, the primal bellowing reverberating the windows. He picked up his strong legs and crashed them down on the floor, leaving dents as he stamped, his tail swinging from side to side as the cafeteria emptied in a shrieking mass, fleeing the rampaging monster in their midst.

"Oooh, a pasty!"

"I'm having the croissant!"

Anar shook his head but smiled. His life was chaos, but did he really want it any different?

Time to get some work and laundry done.

Spinning, spinning, spinning. The gentle hum of the colossal industrial machine was hypnotic.

As Anar sat on the bench in the middle of the laundrette watching his clothes going round and round in suds, Rap was happily sat in a laundry hamper pretending to row it while Rave pushed him around.

What was he going to write? He could make up any old rubbish, but the truth was what he was good at. How could he write about a dragon scale and still get a mark? It was due in first thing in the morning.

He pondered on what little he knew of his family's past. It wasn't all demons and gloom, there was a wonderful old castle mansion and there had been magic - real magic. A General who had become a mage of immense power. Now it was clear that a dragon was a part of it, too. But how, he simply couldn't figure out.

"Walk the plank, scurvy cur!"

He lifted his grey head. "Hmm?"

Rave huffed, "you gotta walk the plank, on account of you bein' a scurvy cur."

"Walk the...?" he got up, "fine. I'll pretend. Got nothing better to do." He popped his hip and held out a towel that was lying around, "you'll never take me alive, pirate!"

Rap laughed from within his plastic basket boat, 'is that meant to be a sword? It's a bit floppy."

Rave wheezed.

"Not a word about my floppy sword!" Anar shouted with faux indignation. He pulled it back and let it go with a 'SNAP!' at Captain Rap.

"Oooh, I'm feeding you to the sharks for that! Rave! Feed him to the sharks!"

The big dinosaur flapped the lid to a box of Persil laundry powder and made Jaws music noises as he brought it closer to the aardvark's snout. "Duh dun. Duh dun. Duhdun duhdun duhdun! Nom nom nom!"

"Is... is that machine free?" a voice from the doorway asked.

They froze; Anar gripping his floppy towel, Rap sat in his laundry basket, Rave holding the powder box lid open. "Think so."

"Nice." The bespectacled human shuffled in, not taking his eyes off the curious theatricals he'd walking into. Dressed in purple robes, golden amulet at his neck, this was a necromancer student. One of the popular cool kids. You had to be a cut above the rest to deal with the undead; you had to be mentally strong, quick-witted, fearless. It could be gruesome and gory. Ghouls, zombies and shades - the remains of mortals reanimated and repurposed for deviant means. That was what they worked with.

He opened his black bag and the aroma of death and decay filled the space, clothes that slopped and squelched were placed inside the machine with a double dose of soap.

Grave soil sifted to the floor.

The three friends heard the beep of their machine and sprung into action; bundling tie-dye crop-tops and fashionable sportswear into a tumble dryer drum urgently, setting the timer and not wasting any time getting out into the fresh air.

Still reeling from the laundry room odour, Anar sat at a table in the library, staring at his blank piece of paper. In one hour his Casio watch alarm would shrill and his drying would be done. There wasn't a lot of work in the syllabus, really, he didn't even have classes all day every day. College was a breeze compared to High School. It was just hard because he didn't want to be here.

Though it could be worse, couldn't it? He could be training as a necromancer. Being a demon wasn't so bad. You just got summoned, maybe had a pact with a sorcerer and gave them power in return for some of their soul, made things go bump in the night. Caused mischief. Fought angels. Convinced weak mortals to worship Satan. Helped bring about famine and plagues. Promoted the seven deadly sins if you were bored. Helped mortals sign contracts they didn't understand. Encouraged mortals to use incantations they didn't understand that would lead to their unfortunate demise.

What was he thinking, it was all awful, wasn't it? Who'd choose to have a career like that? And to top it all off, you had to go through the Abyssal Gate. You had to leave the mortal plane - dying, really, though Hell sold it as a kind of sci-fi suspended animation thing. You wouldn't age as long as you held a contract. You could, technically, live forever, just without the living bit.

Dark thoughts wouldn't help him with this dragon scale. There were so many books with paragraphs on dragons; he knew, he'd looked at most of them. Down in the museum, there were bits of animals that had been mistaken as dragons. He approached a librarian, albeit carefully as resurrecteds weren't to be trifled with. Desperate times called for desperate measures. "Excuse me," he hissed politely.

It barely moved its hood, its cold aura shiver-inducing even at this safe distance. "Yesss?"

"I'm looking for books on dragons. But not fantasy dragons. Dragons in the real world. What I mean is, animals in the real world who look like dragons."

The librarian floated, taking in the jumbled information. "Thisss way."

The library was quiet; Rap and Rave were on their best behaviour looking at some of the lighter works available, as Rave was still learning to read; classics such as: My Little Nosferatu. Sacrificial Rites for Young Readers. See Spot Run For His Life.

"Thank you." Despite his training, it was always a smart move to use your manners with the undead!

He took his suggested books back and flipped through. Sure enough, there were pictures of large, scaly creatures. With strong jaws and long claws. Now all he had to do was write a page on his aardvark ancestor being friends with one. The teacher wasn't going to know any better. His peers didn't certainly wouldn't know fact from fiction. Crowley was going to be a big show-off and brag about his great-great whatever again, so nobody would even remember what rubbish Anar said.

After a great deal of fighting with his fountain pen and its desire to leak ink everywhere, he finally sat back, finished. He was very pleased with himself; he wasn't lying in this piece of homework even if it wasn't quite the truth; and wasn't that a perfectly demonic tactic?

It made him happy to think about a dragon being part of his magical heritage. Maybe one day he would find out exactly what part it had played, all those hundreds of years ago. The old family history book kept in the locked case back at Warlock Court might be translated from whatever old language it was written in and the mystery solved. For now, all he could do was recall the crude, hand-drawn pictures he'd seen within its faded, damaged pages, and wonder...