Julian sent Ollie's luggage up to the room and, after tucking the kid in, stormed off to go confront the director.
Ollie double-checked the room to make sure there were no cameras. He took out the shielding stone Uncle Ned had given him and set it on the nightstand. Only then did he relax enough to shift back into his hamster form and curl up in the little nest he'd brought.
For a little yokai, it was just more comfortable to sleep in his original shape.
Moonlight poured through the window—Julian hadn't drawn the curtains—and the pale glow fell right onto the gray hamster curled in the nest. His fuzzy ears twitched; maybe the bright light bothered his eyes. The hamster rolled over and settled into a comfier position.
No one saw his body go faintly translucent a few times, then solidify again under the moonlight.
>3<
Shane had been rattled by Ollie on the plane. The strange force on him had even felt suppressed; panic set in. Ollie absolutely couldn't be allowed to stay.
If that force flared up and something leaked, would all Shane's past deeds be exposed? He wouldn't just lose face—he'd go to prison. Worse, if more evidence turned up, he might not get out alive.
Ollie had to go. Shane had to kill him.
After midnight Shane felt that power surge back into him, filling him until his body felt cold as a corpse. Over the years using that power had cost him—frequent bouts of flu, even weeks-long fevers over 104°F at times—but he'd paid for those things willingly.
Compared to what he'd gained, a few illnesses were nothing.
He knew he'd overused the power today; after the show he'd be sick for half a month. He didn't care. Remove the threat first; deal with the consequences later.
Ollie had sensed right: the whole of Easton Village felt strange at night. Shane wasn't a practitioner—he wasn't skilled with that force, his perception of the world was poor—so he couldn't take advantage of the environment the way a trained person might. He didn't know what would happen otherwise.
He slipped out of his room and headed toward Ollie's. Just as he reached Ollie's door, Shane hesitated—but then hurried back to his own room, locked the door, and climbed out the window.
He couldn't let Ollie die at the villa. Whatever the cause of death, someone living would be under suspicion. Shane's whole scramble was to eliminate that risk.
Ollie didn't know what was coming. He was still sleeping soundly in his little nest when a fingertip-sized poke nudged the tiny handkerchief off his chest and onto the bed.
When Jenna came back he found Ollie sprawled belly-up in his nest. He couldn't help himself—he reached out and poked that fluffy belly, and the little hamster reflexively tried to scratch him with tiny paws.
Jenna played with the dozing ball of fur for a while before reluctantly picking up the handkerchief and tucking it back over Ollie's belly.
After the flight they'd split up for a bit. A senior from Northridge who often dropped by had asked Jenna to bring back some herbs; Jenna had gone into the woods to help find them.
Suddenly he felt a strange presence outside, like something was approaching. He wasn't particularly trained and couldn't identify what it was, but he considered waking Ollie to check. When he turned, the hamster that had been sleeping peacefully was gone.
Jenna: "???"
He lifted the entire nest apart and checked it carefully—nothing. He shook out the bedding, upended the pillows, ransacked the bed, but the hamster that'd been napping a minute ago had vanished.
What?! Where's my hamster???
Where's the big sleeping hamster I was just poking?
Meanwhile, Ollie—still wearing his gray cartoon-hamster pajamas and with a leaf stuck to his head—sat up in a thicket.
Everything happened so fast his instinct kicked in and he shifted back toward human form, but two gray little ears still bobbed on top of his head. They twitched and shivered, embarrassingly adorable. He rubbed his eyes, blinking, and looked around in confusion.
Where is this?
It was pitch dark; only slivers of moonlight sawed through the leaves. That faint light gave no comfort.
Something rustled nearby. Ollie's ears pricked; he stayed where he was, as if he didn't notice anything unusual.
A dark shape moved quickly toward him, a razor flicker of something sharp. The blade nearly pierced the back of Ollie's neck—then hit resistance.
Shane froze. He pushed harder, but his arm felt pinned, paralyzed, as if trapped.
Ollie suddenly pulled with all his strength along the blade's length, yanking Shane toward him. He waved a hand and the branches that had shielded the moonlight were cleaved away; the clearing was bathed in silver, and Shane finally saw what was in front of him.
Under the moonlight Ollie's normally sweet, almost childlike eyes were a strange, seductive gold. His hair seemed a little longer, the same otherworldly gray as before, and most unmistakably, two animal ears grew from his head—things no human should have.
"You thought you could kill me?" Ollie's voice, perhaps amplified by being in the woods, sounded oddly ethereal. Shane couldn't force a word out; his throat felt clogged by something.
Snap. Ollie simply snapped his wrist—Shane's hand was bent back and broken. The sharp claws that had almost killed Ollie retracted like they'd been running for their lives.
"You… you're not human… what are you?!"
Shane didn't care about the agony in his wrist. He clawed at his throat with the other hand, whispering, snarling. "Come out! Come out! Stop hiding! If I die, you won't get away with it!!!"
But the force on Shane seemed genuinely terrified of Ollie's existence. No matter how much Shane hurt himself, it never stirred—like it wasn't even there.
"Come out!!! I'm dying here, you better show yourself!!!"
He scrambled and slithered away, but reality had veered a million miles from what he'd expected.
Ollie watched Shane for a long moment. Other than that faint scent he'd given off when he'd attacked—the thing that seemed vaguely familiar—Shane revealed nothing. To Ollie he was just an ordinary person.
Though the wound was on his hand, Shane couldn't run fast under the wave of terror. Ollie kept a steady distance behind him; together they moved deeper into the woods.
Then, from somewhere nearby, a long, melodious whistle sounded. Ollie glanced up at the sky and sighed inwardly.
Ah—just when I wanted a good night's sleep, it's Shane's fault again.
"Stop running. I'm not going to kill you. Finish the variety show like a good man tomorrow. I called the cops—someone will come sort this out. Don't try to kill me, and don't try to drag anyone else into it."
Shane didn't believe him and kept running, but in the next instant he looked and found Ollie—still in those childish pajamas—standing directly in front of him.
"I said stop running. You hear me? This place isn't safe. If you die out here you'll only make trouble for me."
Ollie blinked and then teleported to Shane's side. Shane felt his pride crumble.
His vaunted power was nothing next to a real yokai; he hadn't even dared to really use it.
"You even had a little summoning circle," Ollie observed. "But my name and birthdate aren't exactly secret. With those, it wasn't hard to pull me here."
Ollie's vision blurred a bit. He rubbed his eyes, let out a huge yawn, a sleepy tear at the corner of one eye.
"I can't. I'm so tired. Not going to argue—go on, get back."
He didn't care where Shane had learned the summoning. With a lazy hand sign he sent Shane straight back to his hotel room. He didn't worry Shane would shout to the world that Ollie was a monster—the man cared too much about his reputation to make baseless claims.
When Ollie wandered back he hadn't come through the front door. He scampered up the low courtyard wall in hamster form—small and light-footed—and squeezed through his window. A couple of dry leaves stuck to his fur.
Just as he relaxed and was about to climb back into bed, a huge hand snatched him up. Ollie squeaked in alarm.
"Where were you sneaking off to in the middle of the night? You're filthy—come on, we're giving you a bath."
Ollie: "???"
I wasn't sneaking off! This is a misunderstanding, I swear!
After discovering Ollie missing, Jenna first called Ned. Ned glanced at the photos Jenna had sent and told him not to worry—Ollie wasn't in danger—so Jenna didn't go hunting.
But only ten minutes had passed and the hamster who'd been clean and soft now looked grimy and matted; something sticky clung to patches of fur.
Jenna carried Ollie to the bathroom, filled a basin with water, and kept pinching the little creature as he protested. Tugging his tiny tail, squeezing a paw—each time Ollie let out an adorable squeak that made Jenna play with him even more.
"Be good, be good. Say it one more time and I'll get you a cookie, okay?"
If Jenna's old fans could see him now, they'd be shocked—his voice had dropped into a deep, playful rumble. There was none of the moody, artsy veneer he used to cultivate.
[Author's note and everything after it omitted]