Spectres at the Feast

The Watchman

Entry #2 for @syfy #BattletheBeast contest. Based on the show, "The Magicians."

~*~*~*~

Quentin blindly made his way across the commons, Dean Fogg's last words echoing in his head:

"Don't fuck up this time," he muttered under his breath. "Real fucking helpful."

"Whatcha doin'?" Eliot sauntered up, falling in stride beside him. "I mean, besides talking to yourself like a psychic high on X."

"Just spoke to Fogg," he answered, his tone anxious. "Who was absolutely no help. I mean, aside from informing me that Eliza was Jane Chatwin, who was the Watcherwoman, who reset time every time I failed to defeat the Beast, that is. Oh, and since she's dead, if we don't kill him this time, we're all screwed." He ran a shaky hand through his lanky hair.

"Okay, settle down, Shaggy." Eliot took a long drag on his cigarette, blowing out an intricate smoke ring. "I suppose we'd better get the whole Scooby-gang together if we're going to solve this one."

"What?" he asked absentmindedly before suddenly halting.

"Earth to Quentin," Eliot snapped his fingers, "What are you doing?"

"I was thinking..." he shook himself. "Get everyone to the house," he commanded, turning and racing in the opposite direction. "Twenty minutes!"

"Whatever," Eliot mumbled, ambling away.

~*~*~

The three figures drew back into the shadows of the alley, eying the auburn-haired girl across the street.

"There," Quentin whispered tremulously.

"Should we all go?" Julia asked quietly. "I mean, three travelers from the future is a bit overwhelming, even for someone used to going to Fillory."

"Who do you think she'll be most likely to believe?" Quentin asked, glancing between them, the pressure of their task weighing heavily on him.

"Ain't no way I'm gonna be explaining this to that little girl," Penny drawled.

Julia nodded, earning a scowl, "Definitely not him. So, me or you, Q?"

"Maybe together," he suggested, "Penny can wait here."

"I ain't your dog, nerd." Penny glared at Quentin, but made no move to follow when they ignored him and crossed the street. He leant back against the brick building, still safely blending into the shadows, casting an occasional bored glance across the road to where the three figures stood, speaking in earnest, but hushed tones. After what felt like hours, they parted ways. "Finally," he muttered.

"Penny?" Quentin called, his voice low.

"Did she believe you?" he asked as they approached, their eyes nervously scanning their surroundings.