Atticus [BL]

Nolan, with his forehead wrinkled in confusion and frustration, mumbled incoherent words as he read a book. He was holding a candle in his other hand.

"Why is it not working? I've done what the book said." He grumbled, his eyes glued to the book.

A cold night breeze swooshed through him, causing a slight shiver to run down his spine. The flame of his candle remained undisturbed, casting a faint, trembling glow in the darkness. The hooting of owls echoed through the forest, a territorial threat for someone who had invaded their space deep in the forest. Even the chirping of crickets seemed to add to the eerie symphony of sounds, enough to make one's heart race with an urge to flee.

However, Nolan seemed to be unbothered about the noises in his surroundings nor the danger it possessed.

"Don't you think the night is getting deeper now, Young Master?"

Nolan's eyes flicked from the book to the man lying motionless on the ground. Atticus, his butler, sprawled across the damp ground, a pentagon etched in lamb's blood beneath him. His limbs and head aligned with the points of the star. He stared up at his Master, who sat calmly beside him outside the Pentagon, holding a book in one hand and a candle in the other, his demeanor unsettlingly serene.

Nolan flipped the book closed and sighed. "Why it isn't working? Should I be using different language to evoke its power?"

"Perhaps because I am not the best choice sacrifice for the ritual?" Atticus answered, still lying with his limbs spread out.

"No, let's try it again. Close your eyes."

Atticus didn't say anything and obediently obeyed his Master. It had always been one of his duties, and he was more willing to be the subject of his Young Master's experiment.

Nolan placed the book and candle aside before rising to his feet. He positioned himself above his butler's lying form, sitting cross-legged at the head. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, steadying his pulse. After a minute of stillness, he opened his eyes and began to chant, each word slow and deliberate.

However, instead of following what was on the old grimoire that he was reading, he chanted a prayer different from the instruction.

"Evil God of the Universe, You are in every space and time. Present in every dimension of reality and govern the darkness of our world.

Almighty Atticus, hear my plea and grant me one Chthonic spirit to befriend. I offer you this sacrifice in exchange."

Suddenly, he felt his head spinning. His whole body shrank in a second, and as he opened his eyes to check any changes in the ritual, he saw how everything was towering above him.

"Meow…?"

A chuckle was heard from his butler. He looked at him and watched Atticus push himself up from the ground. The messy blood pentagon on the ground stained his suit.

Atticus stood and turned to look down at him, a sly smile gracing his face.

"It sounds like the great Atticus deemed your prayer not sincere enough."

Nolan was filled with confusion, "Meow…?"

Upon hearing a word that came out of his mouth, Nolan fell silent. His eyes glued on his butler as he gazed up at him.

Atticus once again chuckled, "We should head home now, Young Master."

Apprehension began to manifest within Nolan's heart. And when his butler bent down to pick him up, he flinched and hissed.

Without a word from his butler, it instantly dawned on him—he had turned into a cat. He glanced down and saw two small black paws in place of his hands.

"It's alright, Young Master. It'll be okay, I'll help you figure things out later and find a way to turn you back into a human."

Nolan, mysteriously transformed into a cat, stared up at Atticus with wide, dilated eyes, his body tense with apprehension. He stepped back slightly, his fur bristling and his back arching as he watched his butler kneel before him, genuflecting in silence and a small smile on his lips.

Atticus, who seemed calm and reserved despite what happened to him, made him scared even more about what was happening.

"Meowrr…" 

"It's alright, Young Master. You are safe." Atticus said with a warm smile.

Nolan stared at him. Atticus's warm and gentle smile somehow soothed him. His dilated pupils turned to normal, as his green eyes blinked at his butler.

"That's right, Young Master. It's okay. Now, come here and let me carry you back home."

Atticus extended his hand toward him, patiently waiting for his Master to step into his palm.

The black cat slowly approached him, its front paw reaching out to touch his glove before it looked up at Atticus. The butler's smile remained unwavering as he encouraged the cat, patiently waiting for it to step closer.

Suddenly, a rustle in the bushes startled the cat. It leaped toward Atticus, trembling in fear.

"There, there, Young Master. It's okay, no one will hurt you." Atticus said as he petted the cat and stood up.

Without a glance back or any concern for the mess his Master had made, Atticus turned and began walking back home, cradling the cat securely against his body. His back was stained with blood, and dried leaves clung to his suit.

*

The next day.

A young man sat on the bench. He seemed to be restless and was fidgeting and nervously playing on his fingers.

The day was beautiful, the sun casting a warm glow over the front garden of the Loic residence. Yet, despite the tranquility of the scene, it did little to soothe his anxiety.

"Elwin,"

The young man flinched in surprise. He knew the owner of the voice, it belonged to someone he was scared of. He immediately stood up and faced the person who called out to him.

"A-Atticus sir, good morning. Where is Nolan?" he asked, his eyes couldn't look straight at the butler. Instead, he looked at the black cat that Atticus was holding and petting.

"Forgive me, the Young Master is not available to speak with you today…"

Suddenly, the black cat leaped from Atticus's arms and dashed toward Elwin. Startled, Elwin caught the cat as it climbed into his arms, a smile spreading across his face as he gently stroked its fur.

"Is this Nolan's new pet?" he asked, glancing toward the butler. His smile faltered when he saw Atticus glaring at his hand that was petting the cat, the tension in his cold gaze sharp and unsettling.