Return to Gravity Falls

      Stan, flushed with anger, was stopped from shouting by the entrance of Abuelita, holding the scowling Ford by the sleeve. The scientist’s expression suggested he’d been dragged there by force.       “Oh, how wonderful to have you all here,” the old woman smiled, tightening her grip on Ford’s coat sleeve. “I could really use your help in the kitchen.”       There was work for everyone. Ford and Stan, both disgruntled, sliced and grated Parmesan cheese, which smelled of sour milk and slightly rotten earth. Mabel saw Bill wrinkle his nose in disgust every time he passed the elder Pines. Since, at Ford’s insistence, the demon wasn’t trusted to cut anything, Cipher had to run back and forth, serving everyone the necessary ingredients. Dipper, for example, needed butter, and Mabel was waiting for bacon. Abuelita, standing next to them, methodically explained how to make carbonara pasta with parmesan.       “Bill, honey, you still haven’t brought us the bacon,” the old woman prompted Bill. He, distracted from eavesdropping on the Stans' argument about whether they should add tomatoes to their Caesar salad, winced and opened the refrigerator.       “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “I’m on it.”       “Thanks!” Mabel smiled as Cipher placed the necessary ingredients in front of her.       “Hey, lanky one, bring us some garlic and Tabasco!” Stan barked, pointedly ignoring his brother’s insistence that Tabasco isn’t added to a classic Caesar salad.       “And more eggs,” Dipper interjected.       “And Worcestershire sauce,” Ford said.       “And could you clear this garbage off the cabinets?” Abuelita smiled, pointing to the empty bacon and spaghetti packages.       Bill’s eye twitched nervously.       When the dishes were ready, everyone, including Soos, who had been tinkering with the furniture in the attic, sat down at the table. Mabel rocked enthusiastically in her chair, delighted that the whole family — even Bill included — was together.       Everyone listened silently as Abuelita recounted stories from Soos’s childhood.       “Granny, I don’t think they’re interested in hearing about how I learned to use the potty…” Soos muttered sheepishly. Mabel and Dipper exchanged smiles, but Abuelita merely waved her grandson off and then went on to tell the story of how her beloved Soos loved to put flowerpots on his head.       Bill, eyeing his plate suspiciously, didn’t touch his food.       “Why aren’t you eating?” Stan asked with a smirk, sitting next to the demon. Cipher narrowed his eyes and sniffed pointedly.       “You put that stinky cheese in there,” he grumbled. “And I don’t trust the smell of it…”       Ford frowned and glared angrily at the demon.       “Oh, come on!” Stan chuckled and slapped Bill on the back so hard that his nose buried itself in his plate. “You think we’re trying to poison you?”       “Bill, the spaghetti is amazing!” Mabel smiled, encouraging him. “And the cheese is delicious, so soft, just try it!”       “Eat up, dear — you look so run‑down, you need to build up your strength,” Abuelita drawled.       Under the watchful gaze of six pairs of eyes, Cipher wiped his smudged nose and twirled some spaghetti onto his fork. He closed his eyes and placed it in his mouth. Then chewed slowly.       “Well?” Mabel asked.       “Not poisoned?” Dipper grinned. Bill gave him a disgruntled look, then nodded to the girl.       “Quite… not bad.”       “Yay!” Mabel raised her hand triumphantly, hitting Ford on the shoulder. “Oh, sorry, uncle.”       “It’s okay, sweetheart,” Ford finally tore his gaze away from Bill and gave his great-niece a tight smile. Noticing his state, the girl pursed her lips in confusion.       “Grunkle Ford, are you okay?” she asked. Behind her, Soos and Abuelita were putting salad on the demon’s plate, which was surprised by such care.       “Yeah, right,” the scientist nodded. “I’m just… tired.”       “Grunkle Stan, where are you going?” Dipper asked, looking at the man who had suddenly jumped up. He merely waved him off, saying, “Business.”       “What business?” Ford frowned menacingly. “You’re not going anywhere, you need to keep an eye on this!” He pointed at Bill, who had a piece of lettuce hanging out of his mouth.       “Oh, come on, you bore, that weakling isn’t going anywhere,” Stan dumped his plate in the sink and saluted his brother. “Stop getting so worked up about him, or you’ll give yourself a hemorrhoid!”       The scientist’s face turned red. Cipher chuckled under his breath, but this sound was drowned out by Dipper’s voice:       “Uncle Ford,” he called. “I…”       “I can keep an eye on Bill!” Mabel jumped up, drawing everyone’s attention. “It’s no big deal! And Grunkle Stan can do his things and not worry.”       “I wasn’t worried anyway.”       In a low, strained voice, Ford began to scold his brother:       “You’re irresponsible…”       “Hey, look, what’s that over there?” Stanley suddenly pointed toward the window. His brother shook his head.       “I’m not buying it,” he grumbled, but his eyes darted briefly in the direction indicated. That moment was enough for Stan to pull a smoke bomb from his pocket and toss it right at the feet of everyone at the table.       “Stanley! What the hell?!” Ford yelled, accompanied by the laughter and stomping of his running twin.       “Come on, Mr. Pines,” Soos said after the smoke cleared. “It’ll be fine.”       “Yeah!” Mabel reached across the table and hugged her uncle. “I can handle this, Bill’s not going anywhere!”       Dipper nodded in agreement. Surrendering to everyone’s persuasion, Ford lightly patted his grand-niece’s palms and stood up from the table.       “Okay, I guess you’re right. I’ll be in my lab. If anything happens, just call me, okay?”       “Of course!”       Ford left after putting the empty plate in the sink. Soon, Soos decided to go too, mentioning an evening call with Melody. She’d gone to visit her parents in Portland for the summer, but she’d called her boyfriend every evening to tell him about her day.       “Say hi to her!” Mabel called after him. Then she turned to her brother and Bill and smiled. “Well, it’s going to be a fun night, huh?”       “Just don’t make noise,” Abuelita asked calmly, collecting the dirty dishes from the table.       “Of course, we’ll be quiet,” Dipper assured her. “Right, Cipher?”       Mabel smiled contentedly. Now that Bill was living with them, her brother would chide demon for making noise, not her.       “Oh, of course, Pine Tree! I’ll be quieter than water, lower than grass, more transparent than glass!” the demon chuckled. The old woman shook her head, smiling faintly, and went to wash the dishes.       “Oh, oh, you still haven’t looked at the clothes I bought for you!” Mabel jumped up from the table, grabbed Bill by the hand and dragged him toward the stairs. “There are so many things! I tried to pick something that reminded me of you, that’s why there’s so much yellow… At first, I wanted to buy you suits, but then I changed my mind. After all, you look like a teenager, and what teenager wears jackets? And I saw some gorgeous T-shirts, they’ll look great on you…”       “I’m glad, of course, but I’m irritated by your habit of dragging me around by the arms and legs,” Cipher grunted, wrenching his wrist from her tight grip. The girl immediately let go of the demon and smiled apologetically.       “Sorry, sorry, I just want to show you everything!” She said and clapped her hands. “Wait, who was dragging you by the legs?”       The demon’s intense gaze pointed to Dipper, who had just approached them. Mabel’s eyes widened.       “Dipper, is this true?!”       The boy, looking his twin straight in the eye, raised his bandaged hand and scratched his chin thoughtfully.       “Hmm, I don’t remember that,” Dipper shrugged.       “Okay, but I’m watching you!” Mabel, realizing that her brother was lying, just shook her finger in front of his nose, and then rushed upstairs. There was no point in reproaching him, since Dipper had promised not to harm Bill again.       The attic, which had previously seemed almost empty and, despite Dip’s efforts, uninhabited, now at least looked habitable. Looking at the two beds flanking the triangular window, Mabel suddenly felt a powerful surge of nostalgia. True, where she used to sleep, now slept Bill, and the bed was new, but her imagination conjured up old posters, sweaters, and stuffed animals scattered everywhere. Smiling happily, Mabel approached the bed Soos had made, where dozens of shopping bags lay, and ran her finger along the wooden footboard.       “Hey, Dip, remember how we hit Stan in the head when we were playing mini-golf?” Mabel smiled, jumping onto Bill’s bed. Dipper, who had been meticulously examining every inch of his new bookcase and quietly compiling a list of books he would buy, merely hummed. But Mabel, lost in her memories, didn’t wait for him to answer.       “Or how we threw water balloons out the window at Ford? Oh, and how we made sock puppets! They were everywhere…”       “Yeah, or how I tumbled down the stairs when I possessed Pine Tree,” Bill interjected. Mabel laughed, and Dipper finally looked up from admiring his new bookcase.       “Oh, yeah, very funny,” he muttered. “I actually had a week of aching limbs afterward.”       “Oh, come on, bro, it’s all over!” Mabel smiled at her brother. “Besides, you always complain about your back aching even without any demons.”       Dipper pursed his lips in displeasure, and the twin, sprawled on the bed, pushed a bag of clothes toward Bill.       “Go ahead, unpack!” she said. “Or do you want to wear Dipper’s clothes forever?”       Her phone vibrated in her jeans pocket. Mabel jerked in surprise, dropping one of the bags on the floor. She quickly reached for her smartphone. A bunch of messages appeared on the screen: Candy and Grenda were asking if she wanted to have a sleepover with them — Candy’s mom, who worked at the Gravity Falls Museum, had brought back a whole bunch of antiques, and the girls wanted to explore them all at night.       “Oh, great, of course I’ll go!” Mabel exclaimed. Sorting through old junk is one of her favorite things to do in the world, and she, like her brother, was not going to miss the opportunity to rummage through some historical stuff.       “Where will you go?” Dipper inquired.       “The girls are inviting me to a sleepover to rummage through the museum’s junk, and I…” Mabel began enthusiastically, but immediately deflated under the boys' stares. “Oh, right, I’m looking for Bill today…”       With a long sigh, Mabel buried her face in the crook of her elbow, and the boys exchanged glances. It seemed, for the first time in all their days together, they were thinking the same thing.       “Oh, come on, Shooting Star, I’ll get through the night just fine without you watching me,” the demon smiled. “And Sixer doesn’t need to know you chose your friends over me.”       “I’ll keep an eye on Cipher, it’s no big deal,” Dipper sighed. “And the most surprising thing is, I agree with that idiot: uncle doesn’t need to know you’re leaving.”       Mabel, removing her hand from her face, looked at the dark circles under her brother’s eyes and thought that even if he was dying, he’d still say it was “no big deal”. And yet, she’d just recently said the exact same thing to her uncle.       She really wanted to leave Bill with Dipper and go for a walk.       She really didn’t want to take advantage of her brother’s kindness.       She really wanted to know what exactly Candy’s mom had brought.       She really didn’t want to condemn her brother to another sleepless night.       “What are you going to do if Sixer comes to check on us?” Bill grinned, nudging Dipper in the shoulder.       “I’ll shove you in the closet and tell you and Mabel are up on the roof knitting sweaters,” Dipper nudged Bill back.       “No, no, no, and no!” Mabel stretched her arms toward the ceiling and let out a long sigh. “I… O-o-oh!” Mabel bit her lip and let out a delighted squeak. Dipper frowned, and Bill cleared his clogged ear.       “So,” Dipper drawled. “…what’s on your mind?”       “I’ll take Bill with me.”       “No.”       “Oh, I like the idea!” Bill smiled and held up to his chest a brand new yellow T-shirt with the Fancy lettering 'bad decision'. “I’ll wear this!”       “That’s a terrible idea!” Pines exclaimed. “And if uncle…”       “But you were going to lie to him anyway, what’s the problem?” Cipher asked.       “The problem is, you’ll be out of my sight, idiot!”       Mabel actually agreed with Dipper: the idea of ​​dragging along the demon who’d tried to kill her brother this morning was absolutely awful, but she didn’t want to leave them alone either. Dipper still needed rest, and Bill… a walk. After all, locking anyone, even a demon, in the shack seemed cruel to her. Of course, she could explain everything to uncle and leave Cipher with Ford, but… he’d glared at Bill with such fury during dinner that Mabel was terrified to even think about what would happen if the demon will stay with him. What if he strap him down on a couch just to see what’s inside a demon?..       “Come on, bro,” Mabel forced a smile and tugged her twin’s sleeve, drawing the teenager’s attention to her. “He’s not going to escape me, I have a grappling hook!”       “Mabel…” Dipper didn’t even finish, just pursed his lips and raised his eyes to the ceiling. The girl guessed that he was now covering her grappling hook with endless “affectionate” words, recalling all the moments when she hit him on the head or face with it.       “And the girls will help keep an eye on him,” Mabel continued to coax her brother. “And if he tries to escape, we’ll tie him to the radiator and make him a makeup!”       The boys simultaneously shuddered: apparently, the prospect of falling victim to the makeup artist course frightened them equally.       “I’m still not thrilled,” Dipper grumbled. “But there’s no point in trying to talk you out of it, right?”       “That’s right, bro!”       “Okay…”       “Cool!”       “And to fool Sixer, we’ll cover the pillows with a blanket so it looks like I’m sleeping,” Bill grinned. “He won’t fall for it, of course, but his wrinkled face will be so funny!”       Clearly amazed by the genius of the idea Dipper facepalmed, while Mabel began tapping her nails on the screen, typing a message to her friends.       “Uh-oh,” she looked up from her phone and looked at the boys anxiously. “Do you think I should warn them I won’t be alone?”       “You should,” Pines said.       “Let it be a surprise!” Bill grinned. He’d already managed to pull off Dipper’s blue sweatshirt and put on the T-shirt he’d chosen. The words 'bad decision' were an eyesore to Mabel. “As if he’s silently commenting on my idea,” she thought nervously.       “Okay, I’ll explain everything to them when we meet.” Wanting to distract herself from the thoughts that were already beginning to weigh on her, Mabel waved her hand and stood up. “I’ll go get ready. Bill, will you wait for me downstairs? I’ll be right back!”       With a loud stomp, the girl rushed off to her room. Slamming the door, which had a sticker of a winking white cat on it, she began opening nearly every drawer in the room. Lip gloss, her favorite bright blue sweater with yellow stripes, a grappling hook, a set of playing cards, a flashlight, a water bottle, napkins, pajamas, and, of course, her phone charger, all tossed from their hiding places onto the bed. Mabel even managed to run out onto the porch to get a crossbow from under the sofa cushions. Unfortunately, it hadn’t fit completely in her backpack, and now it stuck out unsightly from the briefcase, threatening to shoot an arrow into someone’s eye with any careless move.       Mabel went down to the living room. Dipper was sitting on the sofa in the lotus position with his eyes closed. The girl smiled: her brother was clearly working on this thing called acceptance, otherwise she couldn’t explain why he hadn’t yet punched Bill, who was blowing in Dipper’s ear with a cheeky grin.       “I’m ready!” Mabel smiled, distracting the boys from their important activities. Cipher immediately moved away from Pines.       “Great! I’m ready to have fun.”       “But before we go, a few rules!” Mabel declared. Dipper, opening one eye, watched the speakers carefully.       “Mm, there are rules,” Bill hummed. “I’m listening.”       “So, first of all, you won’t run away from me,” Mabel began counting off the necessary points on her fingers.       “Of course.”       “Secondly, you won’t insult my friends!”       “Never intended to.”       “You can only give them compliments.”       “Okay, maybe I should give them flowers too?” Bill chuckled.       “I’m serious!” Mabel exclaimed. “And lastly: for Grunkle Ford, we never left.”       Shaking his blond locks, Cipher nodded several times. “Got it. So far, everything is simple.”       “That goes for you too, Dip!” Mabel tilted her body to the side to look at her brother, who was blocked by the demon. “You’re covering our backs!”       “I thought we already discussed this,” Dipper sighed, rising from the couch. “Go ahead, stop standing there. I’ll walk you out.”       “Are you afraid that a big, grey wolf will snatch me right from doorstep?” Bill grinned, putting his arm around the boy’s shoulders. “Oh, I’m flattered!”       Mabel could have sworn she saw the imaginary bonfires in her twin’s eyes, where he’d happily burn the annoying demon.       “Just leave me alone, Cipher,” Dipper sighed, removing the demon’s hand from his shoulders. Mabel jumped down the wooden steps and beckoned Bill to follow her.       “Come on, you clingy, let’s go! You can flirt with Dip later,” she grinned. Bill immediately moved away from the boy and hurried after the girl.       “Have a good evening, May,” Dipper waved. “Don’t do anything bad, Cipher.”       The girl laughed and turned to blow her brother a kiss.       “Why only Shooting Star gets good wishes?” the demon grumbled. “And I just… Ow!” Cipher crashed into a shimmering magical barrier. Mabel, who was walking in front of Bill, caught a glimpse of the blond man’s flattened face.       “Oh, my God, Bill, are you okay?” she asked.       “Uncle Ford restored the barrier?” Dipper shouted indignantly, casting an angry glare first at the glowing magical wall, then at the demon. “Why didn’t he tell us?”       “I’m okey,” Cipher grimaced, giving the girl a thumbs-up. A thin trickle of blood ran from his nose. Mabel dug into her backpack for some tissues. While she was rummaging through the pile of things — she had to take out the crossbow and tuck it between her knees to keep it out of the way — Dipper approached them.       “So what now?” he asked.       The girl finally found some napkins and handed them to the demon.       “Here, wipe away the blood,” Mabel said. “Bro, can you remove the barrier?”       “Remove it?” Dipper asked, surprised. “No, that’s a bad idea! If uncle finds out…”       “Just another little lie, Pine Tree,” Bill snorted, stuffing a rolled-up napkin into his nostril.       “Not 'just', Cipher.”       “Dip, please!” Mabel folded her hands in a pleading gesture. “Surely you know how to remove it! And when we get back, you can restore it. And Grunkle Ford won’t know a thing!”       “But…”       “Ple-e-ease!” the girl whined, then tugged at the hem of Bill’s shirt. “Come on, you have to ask too!”       “Why?”       “Bill!” Mabel stamped her foot menacingly.       “Okay, okey,” Cipher rolled his eyes and turned to Dipper. “Come on, Pine Tree. Please.”       Bill winced. “Ugh! I’m an all-powerful demon, demons don’t ask!”       “A hornless devil, that’s what you are,” Dipper whispered loud enough for everyone standing nearby to hear. Cipher shot the boy an indignant look.       “Okay, I’ll remove the barrier,” Dipper nodded to his sister. He looked as if he’d signed his own death warrant.       “You’re the best!” Mabel threw her arms around her brother. “I promise everything will be fine! If anything happens, I’ll say I removed the barrier.”       “No need,” the boy shook his head and headed toward the house. Bill leaned his hand against the magical wall and pursed his lips in frustration.       “Does your nose hurt?” Mabel asked him.       “I’ve been punched in the face so many times these days that I’m used to it,” the teenager smiled, but Mabel had the feeling his smile was strained. It seemed as if all of Bill’s cheerful spirit had evaporated after encountering the magical protection. “I know I’m just a handsome guy now, but that’s no reason to stare at me like that, Shooting Star,” Cipher chuckled.       “Oh, shut up!” Mabel laughed. At that moment, the barrier the demon was leaning on flickered and disappeared. Bill barely managed to straighten up without falling. Dipper’s shaggy head appeared in the Mystery Shack window, he gave two thumbs up and then waved to the ones outside.       “So, Shooting Star, are you ready to have fun?” Bill’s lips stretched into a wide grin.       Candy’s house was located near the Gravity Falls Historical Museum, and it was a long walk from the Shack. Mabel grabbed Bill’s arm — only to prevent the demon from escaping — and tried to brighten the long walk with conversation, but Cipher was lost in his own thoughts. After five attempts to engage him in talk, all of which failed because he merely mumbled incoherently, Pines rolled her eyes in disappointment and began entertaining herself.       At first, she amused herself by designing matching outfits for herself and her brother for the weekend, while simultaneously performing a newly devised ritual: every third step, hop on your left foot and slap yourself first on the thigh, then on the shoulder, to ensure a fantastic sleepover. Then, when she caught a glimpse of an owl flying very close, Mabel remembered a note in one of her uncle’s journals about a secret society in Gravity Falls worshiping owls. She began to speculate aloud about how exactly this worship took place and who exactly belonged to it. When the names of the city’s residents stopped popping into her head, the girl turned her gaze to the darkened sky and saw stars spread across the entire firmament. Mabel stretched out her hand, as if wanting to reach them, and began searching for familiar constellations. The first thing she found was the Big Dipper — it’s hard not to recognize what you see every day on your twin’s forehead. She began connecting the glowing dots, as if drawing in the air, but faltered. Mabel would have plowed her nose into the ground if Bill hadn’t grabbed her by the backpack.       “What, the stars don’t attract you anymore, and you’ve decided to look for worms in the grass?” he chuckled. The girl straightened up and gripped his hand tighter.       “Have you finally emerged from your, how my brother would probably say, gloomy introspection?” Pines asked, inspired.       “Seriously, he’s talking like that?”       “Of course! He loves such words! Introspection, negative accommodation…”       “Maybe a connotation?”       “…languor and… Oh, my favorite: borborygmus!” Mabel laughed. “No, how can you say that and not burst out laughing? Borborygmus!”       Bill watched the deer scurry between the trees and said:       “Your nerd-uncle loves words like that too. I remember him once, without a single stutter, telling me that he works with…” Bill paused briefly and then slowly, syllable by syllable, drawled. “…tetrahydropyranylcyclopentyltetrahydropyridopyridine substances.”       “Oh my God,” Mabel breathed. “I didn’t understand a word, but that sounds impressive. I’m sure even Dip couldn’t pronounce that!”       Cipher nodded.       “Yes, saying that is insane. Even for me.”       They fell silent, reflecting on the brief exchange. Mabel experienced an odd blend of feelings. It was peculiar, almost eerie, to converse with Bill about Ford and Dipper. Yet, there was a certain comfort in it too. And fun. Mostly because Bill seemed like a kindred spirit — when he wasn’t acting like an evil jerk. A fleeting thought occurred to her: if the demon suddenly changed and stopped trying to kill everyone and take over the world, she might even be able to befriend him. Mabel glanced sideways at Cipher. During the day, she would never have noticed that there was anything demonic in his appearance, but now, for some reason, it seemed to her that he was abnormally clearly visible in the semi-darkness, and his eyes seemed to glow. She frowned and blinked — the illusion had passed. Next to her walked an ordinary teenager, watching her mockingly.       “You keep looking at me like that, and Pine Tree and Sixer will have another reason to kill me.”       “Stop it!” Mabel laughed, nudging Bill in the shoulder. “I was just wondering why you haven’t tried to escape from me yet.”       “Probably because you’ve asked not to?” Bill asked, raising his eyebrow.       “So you’re quite obedient, huh?”       “It’s useful for me,” the guy admitted, shrugging. “So, why not?”       “Useful?” Mabel asked, surprised. “What do you mean?”       Cipher smiled widely — too widely, revealing nearly all thirty-two teeth — and said nothing. A gnome scurried across the asphalt next to them. The tiny man, seeing Cipher, arched his back like a cat and hissed at the boy. Bill only laughed smugly and stuck out his tongue at the gnome.       Mabel adjusted the backpack strap that was slipping off her shoulder and sighed.       “And yet,” she continued to inquire. “Is it really that profitable for you to be near me right now? What will it give you?”       “You really don’t understand?” the demon asked, surprised. Mabel shook her head. Bill considered for a few seconds, looking at the houses they passed, and then sighed, “Oka-a-y, let me explain.”       Pines steeled herself.       “Imagine that you, who previously possessed almost limitless power, suddenly found yourself trapped in a body unfamiliar to you. Everything you knew about this body turned out to be completely different. The pain lasts a long time, you need to eat, drink, and everything else.”       “Well, it’s not too bad yet,” Mabel said hesitantly. “I mean, you’re alive, right? You can still adjust to your new form?”       Bill grunted. “You don’t understand what went wrong or how to fix it. Plus, you’re surrounded by people who aren’t particularly friendly towards you…”       “But not everyone!”       “And you’re don’t have powers that could protect you.”       Mabel opened her mouth to protest, but quickly closed it.       “You’re still capable of hurting someone, of course” Bill glanced pointedly at Mabel, reminding her of how he’d nearly plunged the pen into Dipper’s neck. “And you think that if you get rid of the guards, you’ll be able to figure out what’s happening to you. But then it turns out that the one who hates you most has literally trapped you inside the barrier you can’t escape from, which means even killing the guard won’t accomplish anything, because you won’t be able to run away. The only good thing is that at least he doesn’t force you to dance in a jester’s cap. But there it is, huh, a chance to leave? You’re free now, held only by the slender hand of some mortal…       “Not just 'some mortal'!”       “…But what do you think awaits you if you suddenly break her little arm, stun her and run away?”       Mabel thought. At first, she wanted to shout, “Freedom!” But then she remembered all the looks Ford gave Bill, filled with hatred, Dipper’s wariness of the demon, and how her uncle nearly killed Cipher the first time he saw him in human form. She decided to speak slowly, almost in a whisper, following Bill’s lead — as if she were in his shoes.       “I think I would be haunted by the relatives of this… mortal.”       Bill nodded approvingly.       “And I wouldn’t be able to get far,” Mabel breathed, recalling the events of Weirdmageddon and all the conversations with her family about it. “There’s still some weird barrier around town that won’t let me out. Well, or it will let me out, but I’m not sure about that… Hm, I think I still wouldn’t be able to get through, otherwise the magic wall around the Shack would easily let me inside and out. So… they would have found me quickly. And I won’t be able to fight back, since I don’t have my powers.       “So what’s your choice then?” Bill asked, narrowing his eyes slyly.       “Gain their trust so that no one else will want to get rid of me. Or, at least, so that I have protectors. With their help, I could stay safe and figure out why I have this form now and how to get my powers back.”       Cipher waved his hand to the side, as if showing off a simple landscape. He looked pleased and surprised at the same time.       “Well, you’ve answered your own question. Good job, you’re quick-witted.”       Mabel pursed her lips. Something about this conversation felt off. On the one hand, yes, she did have the answer she wanted, but on the other… Why would Cipher answer her, especially so frankly? After all, he has now essentially admitted that he is going to take advantage of the trust of her family members. And Mabel didn’t want her family taken advantage of. She sighed heavily.       “Now I have one more question,” she said dejectedly. Cipher laughed.       “Let me guess,” he chuckled. “You want to know why I told you all this?”       “Yes!” Pines exclaimed, waving her free hand. “That’s weird, isn’t it? You told me your evil plan!”       “Evil plan?” Bill repeated. “There’s nothing evil about it. Just a simple calculation.”       “So, there’s a calculation in telling me all this, too?”       “Of course!”       “And what is it?” Mabel didn’t give up.       “And here, Shooting Star, think by yourself.” Bill winked at the girl.       Mabel puffed out her cheeks and lowered her gaze, studying the reflective laces of her sneakers. Bill was illogical. Bill was strange. She had thought so since childhood, when, instead of silently killing two twelve-year-olds and one good-natured guy in someone else’s mind, he put on a whole show, demonstrating his terrifying skills. Now it was as if he were putting on another show, only a verbal one. Was there even a grain of truth in all that? She made a sound like a horse’s snort. Let’s say he was being honest — at least partially — after all, she, like Dipper, had realized from watching Bill that he wasn’t thrilled with his new body and that he no longer had any powers. So Mabel decided that part of his words could be taken as truth. She preferred not to think too much about the hostility towards him: it was a reality that everyone was aware of. Ford, Dipper, and even Grunkle Stan each showed their hatred and mistrust of the demon in their own way. Stanford had fun with him in his lab, Dipper only stopped hitting Bill after Mabel asked, and Stanley kept Cipher so busy at the Shack that he was doing the work of four. Even Wendy, who rarely visited the Mystery Shack, couldn’t pass by the demon without giving him a slap on the back of the head. The girl felt her insides tighten with sympathy. Yes, he was a demon, but that didn’t mean he should be treated like that. Even if it is out of revenge.       Bill sighed heavily, breaking the girl out of her thoughts.       “So, will we be there soon? he asked, lifting his foot and sliding a finger between the heel and the back of his sneaker. “I think I’ve got a blister. Can you even wear these stupid shoes for that long?”       Mabel snorted and glanced around the street.       “Over there, see?” She pointed to the third house on the left. “That’s Candy’s house. So we’re almost there!” Cipher, like a broken television, emitted a series of white noise-like sounds. Then, catching himself, he nodded and said simply: “Finally.”       Mabel didn’t have time to knock on the door — it suddenly opened, causing the bells above it to ring, and the girl was almost knocked off her feet by two silhouettes.       “Mabel!” Grenda’s booming voice echoed through the area. Her friend hugged both Mabel and Candy, whose glasses were barely hanging on her nose.       “We’re so glad you came! We’ll have so much to discuss today!” Candy said.       “Oh, and I’m so happy too!” Pines breathed when Grenda released her. “By the way, I… I want to introduce you to someone.”       The girls exchanged puzzled glances. Bill, who had been standing in the shadows, stepped forward and waved.       “Peek-a-boo!”       “Mabel, you brought your boyfriend?” Candy asked, surprised. Grenda looked at the young man with undisguised skepticism.       “Um, not exactly,” Mabel smiled. “This is Bill, and he’s only with me today because there’s no one else to keep an eye on him. Sorry, girls, for not telling you earlier.”       “Keep an eye on him?” Grenda chuckled, folding her muscular arms across her chest. “Why?       “Well, it’s a long story,” Mabel said, casting a suspicious glance at Cipher, as she feared he was about to start telling all the horrors he had committed. But the demon only smiled sweetly and looked like the most innocent guy in the world.       “Okay, let’s go inside,” Candy smiled, opening the front door wider. “We’re glad to meet you, Bill.”       “Oh, I’m charmed too,” Cipher gently moved the girl aside and, as if playing the role of a hotel doorman, held the door. “After you!”       The girls exchanged glances and giggled.       “Oh, Bill,” Mabel smiled, grabbing the demon by the wrist and pulling him inside. “Dipper should learn how to treat girls from you!”       Listening to the empty conversations that accompanied digging through the pile of trash brought from the museum turned out to be boring. Bill sat on the sofa, twirling a stuffed bird with glossy black plumage in his hands. A few bright yellow feathers stuck out from its rump. The thing looked dented and crooked, as if it had been made by a five-year-old who had later accidentally sat on it. Cypher sighed. Sitting in the Shack, even trapped, and teasing Pine Tree would be far more entertaining than pretending to be genuinely interested in what was going on between Grenda and — “It’s only natural, Bill!” — some leather sack from Austria. Or Australia?.. Bill couldn’t even amuse himself by bringing the stuffed animal he was playing with to life and turning it into a bloodthirsty monster. Or at least grow it another head. But Shooting Star was delighted. Her eyes literally lit up as she listened to her friend’s story about the recent date. And the squeak she made every time she pulled something out of the junk piled in the center of the living room was definitely louder than 130 decibels, because it gave Cypher a headache.       “Oh, look, look, look!” Shooting Star squealed, bounding toward the demon. She was clutching a five-year-old newspaper.       “Great,” Bill smiled crookedly, running his eyes over the piece of paper. “Soos got his head stuck in a honey pot. That’s very interesting.”       “It’s the newspaper that came out the day after we defeated you,” the girl explained in an excited whisper. “Everyone agreed that no one would ever mention the events of Weirdmageddon.”       “Otherwise the local cops will stare at me menacingly? Cipher smirked. “Yeah, creepy.”       Shooting Star pouted. It seemed important to her that Bill liked the newspaper.       “Are you bored?” she asked suddenly. Cipher looked into her saddened brown eyes and really wanted to say, “Yes.” But instead he blurted out:       “No, it’s just a little unusual.”       “Unusual?”       “Yeah. Over the past few days, I’ve gotten used to the constant surveillance for my perfect self and Sixer’s disapproving gaze. It feels strange without it.”       Shooting Star snorted with a soft laugh.       “It’s okay, once we’ll get back Deep will start following you around again!”       “Hey, guys, look!” Candy pointed to the gilded corner of a frame peeking out from under some broken stuffed animals and books.       “A painting?” Grenda jumped up. “I wonder who’s in it?”       “Maybe a handsome aristocrat?” suggested Shooting Star, having already forgotten about Cipher. The girls began digging the painting out from under the junk.       “Oh my! How beautiful!” Shooting Star breathed.       The painting, contrary to mortal expectations, depicted a woman who lived around the time of Gravity Falls' founding. She wore a light blue high-necked dress, overly pale skin, which was considered a sign of aristocracy at the time, light brown hair half-up, and bright green eyes. Bill snorted: a mortal like any other. She wasn’t beautiful, as Star hoped. The aristocrat was depicted as aging — Cypher was ready to shake the artist’s hand: capturing such a vision requires a special skill — but her eyes held nothing but despair and envy. A truly remarkable individual.       “I wonder who that is?” Grenda asked, walking around the painting. “It’s not labeled anywhere.”       “I don’t know, Mom found all these things in the basement,” Candy shrugged. “Probably all the information about these exhibits was lost, so they were dumped there.”       Shooting Star and Grenda leaned the painting against the wall. The women glared at everyone present.       “Uh, don’t you think she is watching us?” Candy shuddered.       “It’s just an optical illusion. The perspective, shadows, and light in the painting don’t change as the observer moves. If the eyes in the painting are looking straight ahead, they will follow you around the room, wherever you go,” Bill replied. “Even if you stand in the farthest corner of the living room, this mort… um, I mean, the woman will still seem to be looking at you.”       “How do you know?” Grenda asked. “Are you an artist?”       “Oh no, I’m just a multi-talented individual!” Bill chuckled. “I know everything about everything.”       “Except that people don’t drink with their eyes,” Shooting Star whispered, so that only the demon could hear. Cipher merely waved him off.       Candy, squinting, began pacing the room, never taking her eyes off the painting; the others were no longer interested in the portrait. Star, having gathered some stuffed birds around her, was putting on a performance for Grenda, the plot reminiscent of the theater of the absurd: two feathered creatures, sitting under a crooked tree, await a third that will never appear. Apparently, the girl couldn’t think of anything more to talk about, which is why the birds constantly discussed nothing but why they had gathered near the tree. Wanting to escape these profound remarks, Bill picked up a book from the floor. To the demon’s delight, the dark binding was made of genuine leather. “Too bad it’s not human leather,” Cipher silently laught.       “Is blinking an optical illusion, too?” Candy said suddenly.       “What?” Bill asked in surprise, looking up from his book. Grenda and Shooting Star also turned their heads towards their friend. She merely pointed at the portrait.       Everyone stared at the painting, but nothing happened. Bill raised an eyebrow and was about to say that Candy must have imagined it — a glare on her glasses or something; they needed to be cleaned at least once in a while — when the women on the portrait slowly turned her head and stared straight at Grenda and Shooting Star sitting before her.       “Well, well, well,” Cypher said in amazement. “Now that’s interesting.”       The woman blinked and extended her hand. Her translucent fingers grasped the edge of the frame. The girls froze, as if struck by lightning. Long claws grew from the aristocrat’s pale hands. A wide grin disfigured her graceful face.       “This isn’t good…” Candy drawled.       Bill jumped off the couch and, grabbing Shooting Star by the collar of her sweater, pulled her away from the painting — just then, sharp claws flashed where the girl’s wide eyes had been.       “Damn it!” Grenda cursed.       “Run!” Candy screamed.       “Oh, God, Bill, thank you!” Star jumped up and, grabbing the demon by the wrist, dragged him along.       “Not a God, but welcome!” Cipher grinned. “You’ll owe me.”       The girl couldn’t answer: her voice was drowned out by hysterical laughter, turning into a shrill screech. Bill’s eye twitched — not even Shooting Star had ever screamed like that; and the girl, by the way, pulled a grappling hook from somewhere under her clothes and fired at the ghost. And, predictably, the hook flew through the woman and crashed into the chandelier. The bulbs burst, the light went out, and shards flew at the one’s under it.       “Don’t break my house!” Candy begged from somewhere in the darkness.       “Sorry!” Pines screamed.       The remains of the chandelier crunched underfoot. Bill dove behind the couch, pulling Shooting Star with him. The ghost, barely glowing in the darkness, flew past. Candy and Grenda were nowhere to be seen.       “Bill, you’re an all-powerful demon,” Shooting Star whispered. “How to defeat this crazy woman?!”       A cracking sound came from somewhere off to the side. In the moonlight filtering through the window, Grenda’s massive silhouette appeared, fending off the mad aristocrat with a chair.       “If you haven’t forgotten, Shooting Star, I have no powers, so I’m not all-powerful,” Cipher sighed irritably. “And I’m sure it’s because of your brother!”       “YTUAEB RUOY EM EVIG!” the ghost roared. Sharp claws slashed the chair and the hands of the defending girl. Grenda pressed herself against the wall, but then a second figure flashed: Candy, grabbing her friend by the waist, dragged her into the darkness. The girls hid. Having lost her prey, the women spun around and stretched out her arms. The sofa behind which Bill and Shooting Star were hiding flew into the air, and with it the rest of the furniture.       “Mom will kill me!” Candy whispered in horror.       Shooting Star darted to the side — presumably toward the exit. The stuffed birds she’d used earlier to stage the play, along with books and glass fragments, immediately flew at the girl.       “Locked!” she cried. A desperate banging on the wood indicated that she was pushing the front door with all her might. The ghost, howling, flew toward her. A cry of pain rang out — mad ghost had grabbed Shooting Star’s face.       “Mabel!” Candy and Grenda shouted. Judging by the crunching glass, they were rushing toward their friend. Bill paused for a moment. “It’s not my problem,” flashed through his mind. But then another thought occurred to him: “If I save her, it will be easier to win the trust of Pine Tree and the others.”       “Oh, damn it,” Cipher breathed. He stepped right under the ghost’s arms, shielding Shooting Star. Sharp claws slashed across his face, tearing skin from his forehead and cheek. “What wouldn’t you do to carry out a plan?” Bill grinned broadly, feeling the entire right side of his face go numb with pain. Someone tugged at his shirt, pulling him away from the ghost. Candy and Grenda, who had reached them, grabbed and dragged them deeper into the room. Shards of glass smashed into them, scraping their skin. A sideboard collapsed right in front of them — Grenda barely managed to jump to the side to avoid being buried under it.       “Bill, you’re a mind demon, don’t you know what to do with her?” Shooting Star breathed, waving away the objects flying at her.       “Over there!” Candy screamed. Bill couldn’t figure out where exactly: in the darkness, it was impossible to see where the girl was pointing. At some moment, the foursome split up. Bill pressed Star into a fallen chair and hid nearby.       “Dipper once said he caught a ghost in the Northwest estate!” she persisted. Glowing, translucent hands immediately appeared above her head.       “YTUAEB RUOY EM EVIG” the woman yelled. Shooting Star screeched and darted to the side — the ghost’s clawed fingers slashed through the air. Cypher ran back and pressed himself into the corner behind the closet. Nearby, he heard the nervous breathing of one of the girls. The ghost screeched and began to knock over any furniture in its path.       “Bill!” Shooting Star yelled from somewhere.       “I am thinking!” the demon growled. “The human brain refuses to work cool‑headed in moments of stress…”       Bill sighed and crouched down — just as a shard of the chandelier embedded itself in the wall right above his head. The ghost suddenly vanished from sight. Silence fell.       “Back in the day, puny humans believed that mirrors — especially silver ones — could trap the souls of the departed…” Cypher exhaled. His voice was barely audible, even though no one else was making any sound. “Something along the lines that a mirror’s absorbing and emitting abilities helping in driving out foreign intrusions and freeing the soul. And silver, being a pure metal, soaks up negative energy.”       “If people believed it, then it must be true!” Shooting Star shouted.       “Really?! People mostly believe all sorts of nonsense — like the superiority of the human race over others and horoscopes!”       “But horoscopes are true!” Pines protested. “I was told today I’d have a good day — and it was a good day!”       “Which day did the horoscope talked about?” Candy asked; her voice came from the same spot where Shooting Star had shouted. “If it was about Wednesday, then you were lied to. Wednesday’s been going on for three hours already, and it’s not going very well so far.”       “Candy! Whose side are you on?!”       “I’d like to be on the side of the survivors!”       The ghost’s silhouette illuminated the arguing girls sitting behind a broken sideboard. The woman screamed in glee and pounced on them.       “How did she find us?!” Shooting Star asked in surprise, dodging the sharp claws and dragging her friend along with her.       “Perhaps you should have hidden silently?” muttered Grenda, hiding next to the demon. “Then you would have been harder to find.”       “Pfft, nonsense!” Bill said sarcastically.       “So, we need a mirror,” Grenda whispered. “I thought I saw one in a pile of museum junk. A square one, with roses…”       Cipher frowned. His right eye was clouded with blood. Somewhere in the darkness, Candy, her glasses gleaming, was fighting off a ghost.       “Light,” he muttered, then spoke louder. “I need light!”       “I have a flashlight!” Shooting Star shouted. She was helping her friend dodge the crazy aristocrat trying to rip the skin off Candy’s face.       “So, I’m looking for a mirror, and you help these mortals not die, okay? Bill turned to Grenda, who was sitting nearby. She only snorted.       “Shooting Star, flashlight!” Cipher and Grenda emerged from their hiding place and raced toward the girls. The ghost spun around, arms outstretched, as if to embrace the fleeing figures. Bill ducked and slid across the floor, gathering the shards with his body. A flashlight rolled to his feet, illuminated by the ghost’s glow. He grabbed it and flicked the switch. A white beam cut through the darkness. The ghost, like a moth drawn by the light, immediately forgot about the girls and rushed after the demon. Bill gritted his teeth.       “I’m a damn immortal clot of energy, I should be hunting for human souls, not them hunting for me!”       Slipping the soles of his sneakers on the glass, Bill cursed human shoes, human flesh, and the annoying ghost screeching right behind the demon.       “Hey, monster!” Star’s voice rang out. “Catch me!”       “YTUAEB RUOY EKAT LLIW I!” the aristocrat screamed. A glowing dress flashed somewhere to the side and Bill thought the ghost had left him behind, when suddenly his feet left the ground — clawed hands grabbed his ankles and pulled him back. Bill collapsed to the floor. The flashlight slipped from his hands and rolled to the side. Cipher slid across the shards on his belly.       “Bill!” One of the girls shouted, but the demon couldn’t tell who it was due to the pain.       “Hey, you transparent dumbass, come here!” The ghost released the boy and turned to Shooting Star. Bill reached for the flashlight and noticed that directly beneath it, reflecting the light, lay a square frame with carved roses and S-shaped swirls. Slender fingers grabbed the cool mirror and pulled it closer. Bill stared at his reflection with a wild grin. And then he felt a huge disappointment: the mirror was bronze.       “Damn you!” he growled. “We need silver!”       A ripple passed across the mirror. Behind Bill’s bloodied face, Shooting Star was reflected, running away from the angry ghost. Still holding the mirror, Cipher turned around. The girl had darted right over him, dodging translucent claws. Missing their previous victim, the claws whistled past Bill’s nose, grazing the very tip. Wanting to protect his already damaged face, the young man closed his eyes and held the mirror in front of him, using it like a shield. The woman shrieked, then abruptly fell silent.       “Oh my God,” Candy breathed. Bill opened his eyes. The ghost was nowhere to be seen.       “Bill, you caught her!” Shooting Star laughed. Cipher raised his eyebrows in surprise and looked at the silver mirror. The distraught aristocrat was thrashing within it. Candy and Shooting Star hugged each other and sank to the floor.       “Let’s just watch the series next time?” Grenda suggested wearily.       The horizon was just beginning to lighten, its pale glow clearly outlining the dark silhouettes of fir trees. Bill was sitting on the porch, letting the cool breeze wash over his fresh wounds and stretching out his bare feet — he’d ditched his sneakers right after the scuffle with the ghost. A mirror wrapped in purple cloth lay nearby.       “Hey, Bill, you okay?” Shooting Star tapped the demon on the shoulder and sat down next to him.       “Great — unlike you and your pals,” Cypher grunted. And it was true: the girls had taken way more of a beating. The ghost had seemed less interested in just hurting them and more in peeling their skin off.       “Dipper’s gonna be surprised,” Pines forced a smile.       Suddenly, there was a cough behind them. The demon and the girl turned around. Blood‑stained Candy and Grenda stood in the doorway, arms crossed.       “Speaking of surprises,” Grenda drawled. “While we were running from that crazy thing, we heard some pretty interesting stuff. Mabel, got anything you wanna explain?”       Shooting Star and Bill exchanged a look.       “You explain it,” the demon smirked.       “Uh… Well…” the girl scratched the back of her head awkwardly. “The thing is…”       “This guy’s the same evil triangle who took over our town five years ago,” Candy said, adjusting her broken glasses.       “Yeah!” Shooting Star perked up, clearly excited that they have figured it out by themselves. But then she caught sight of her friends’ tired, unamused faces and her smile faded.       “Are you mad I didn’t tell you? Dipper asked me not to say anything…”       The girls sighed in unison.       “We’re not mad,” Candy drawled. “Look, it makes sense not to go shouting from the rooftops that there’s a crazy demon living in our town now — caution’s fair enough, but…”       “…but we’re friends, Mabel. We wouldn’t have told anyone,” Grenda winked. Shooting Star let out a bright laugh and threw herself at her friends.       “I love you guys!”       The girls hugged. Meanwhile, Bill rolled his eyes and lay back on the porch. He desperately wanted to rip off the tattered human rags he was wearing, get cleaned up, and grab something to eat.       “If you’re done for the day,” the demon sighed, “maybe we could head back to the Shack?”       Being in the kitchen at four in the morning was the most pleasant thing. There was no sleep-deprived Stan grumbling nearby, pouring coffee on the floor instead of in the mug, Mabel wasn’t hovering nearby, gathering up completely inedible things for her new drink, and Waddles, always running underfoot, waiting for something to fall on the floor so he could eat it, wasn’t in the way. Dipper sighed blissfully and settled more comfortably on the table — when you were alone, you didn’t have to worry about etiquette or anything like that. You could peacefully drink coffee, read Edgar Allan Poe’s detective novels, and sit on the kitchen table in your underwear.       Wonderful. He hadn’t had such a peaceful morning in a long time.       The front door slammed loudly. He looked up from his book. A flash of tousled blonde hair came into the hallway, and his sister’s tired voice rang out. “They’re back,” Dipper sighed with relief.       “Hey, bro!” Mabel smiled, dashing into the kitchen. Dipper caught sight of her and froze in horror: his sister’s face looked like it had been rubbed against a grater, and the top of her sweater was soaked with blood. But her smile, as always, was genuine and cheerful.       Cypher, standing just behind Mabel, looked a bit better — but he had three neat gashes above his right eye, like claw marks, his whole body was covered in small scratches, his T‑shirt looked like it had gone through a meat grinder, and for some reason his bare feet were all covered in blisters. Catching the boy’s gaze, Bill winked.       “Can’t sleep without me?” he smirked.       “Wh‑what the hell?!” Dipper nearly shouted, jumping off the table and grabbing his sister. The book and mug he’d been holding flew to the floor. “What happened?! You were supposed to be on a sleepover, for crying out loud!”       “No more 'crying out loud', please — we’re officially cry‑exhausted for today” the girl laughed. Dipper wasn’t sharing her cheerfulness. He glared at Cypher and growled:       “What did you do?!”       The demon threw up his hands indignantly, as if to say, “Why is it always me?” He had a purple bundle tucked under his arm.       “No, Dip, it wasn’t him — it was a ghost!” Mabel grabbed her brother by the shoulders and turned him to face her. “And Bill helped us get rid of it!”       Dipper frowned, not believing a word, but stayed quiet. He sat his sister down on a chair, nodded at Cypher to take the one next to her, and started rummaging through the kitchen shelves.       “Spill it all,” Dipper muttered. “While I look for the first‑aid kit and patch you up…”       The boy stood in a puddle of cold coffee, spilled when he dropped his mug, thinking he’d never let his sister go “just rummage through museum junk” again. On the table, next to the aid kit, lay a square mirror with the ghost of a young woman thrashing inside. There was dried blood under the claws with which she tried to scratch the mirror surface.       “…Well, then we quickly cleaned up,” Mabel finished her story. She rubbed her fresh bandages and swung her legs cheerfully. “That was fun!”       “Oh yeah, I suggest we go hunting a Rolling Head next time!” “Cipher said without much enthusiasm. “So we’ll definitely get eaten.”       Dipper stared at the demon but said nothing.       “Hey, Pine Tree, what’s wrong?” Bill asked. “Don’t worry, we’ll take you too. What if the Head finds you the most delicious, and it leaves us alive?”       Mabel laughed loudly, and Dipper tried to resist the urge to hit the demon over the head with a book.       “Go get yourself cleaned up and come up with an excuse for your disheveled appearance to uncle Ford,” he finally said. “In the meantime, I’ll fix the barrier.”       “Hooray, a shower!” the girl shouted, running toward her room. Her cheerful voice came from the hallway: “Dip, you should make me chilaquiles!”       The teenager sighed heavily.       “I don’t know what this is, but I wouldn’t say no either,” Cipher smiled, standing up and stretching. Dipper heard his back crack loudly and couldn’t help but chuckle.       “What?” the demon asked, surprised. Pines shook his head.       “Nothing.” Shrugging, Bill went upstairs. Dipper gathered his courage and called out to him as he was already at the door.       “Hey, Ciph… Bill.”       The demon turned around.       “Thanks for protecting my sister,” Dipper breathed out, but the words came hard. It wasn’t easy to thank the demon who had once almost killed her.       “Oh, not a big deal,” Cypher waved it off. “Shooting Star is the only one who treats me well, so I don’t mind helping her.”       Dipper raised an eyebrow, watching the demon disappear into the hallway.       “Did he just say that he knows how to be grateful?” the boy asked the ghost. The women hissed angrily in response and began scratching the glass with her claws. Pines rolled his eyes.       “Oh, shut up. Now I’ll have to perform an exorcism because of you.”       A purple cloth covered the angry face.